Is it luck when I pick a spot in the sky: beyond the halo of city lights, the spot where one will shine in my purview, in the absence of a fingernail moon? I want a star to streak for me. Bleach my sky.

My thoughts race across the things I want. Float between two desires. If a star shoots during a wishful thought, does that mean it’s destiny? The star has given me it’s blessing to pursue.

I am selfish.

I wonder how many specks of burning dust validated a thought. Gave a wishful soul justification. This may be…

Blair McKee

creative writing major turned software engineer

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