fortunatly we are caffienated so we can adjust.
the antiquated stars have all shifted,
spinning slowly they change into their fall dress.
i know now the stars are all moth-eatin.
lucky for us there is still time.
we are newborns but when we move
we rattle like antique lanterns.
the stars are antique lanterns
therefore we are stars.
an opal iris overhead blinks and flickers.
we all wait for the sun.