“I wish I knew the names of the stars”, I said, and you said “Do you think they know yours?”. And then the night was darker than I thought and the sky a still life that refused to move. I wanted to shake it like I wanted to shake my own life and kiss you on the lips when you weren’t expecting that. But I’m a pile of unwished wishes and all those shooting stars that we were promised are really shooting blanks. So tell me why we can’t hold hands. Or take a stand. The grass is scratching our backs and I still wait for you to figure out why I’m holding my breath. But I can’t really wish on a plane. Neither on bicycles lights that keep passing by and distracting us. If only something happened would you remember this?