Lift me out of myself and carry me
to someone else's house
and leave me invisible on their sofa
or sitting at the end of their bed,
empty of whatever it was I used to look for —
I will be the star they chase in their dreams
sparkling through their clean bathroom
smoking cigarettes on their patio at night —
I'll smell their eggs in the morning
and make them shiver when they look in mirrors.
I've forgotten what I thought I had to do
so lead me into someone else's purpose
let me read their story and guess how it ends
I'll see how they feel alone when they're with others
and how they hold themselves together when alone.
If one day the sun gave up and disappeared,
this planet would still move through space,
no longer orbiting but tangentially hurtling
into the sugary galaxy like a starship
cold and lost probably, seeking other suns,
beautiful light and inescapable gravity —
to be enfolded in another orbit, lovingly —
someone else's house and someone else's life
and all of history and memory buried by time
until she becomes the only sun that could ever be.