Meteor Shower… Not?

Every once in awhile, a romantic streak manifests to heckle myself  in strange ways.

This year, in the form an annual leonid meteor show, I forced myself up in the wee hours of the morning to hobble over to a public park to catch a promised “spectacular show of shooting stars”.

After four hours of lying on a jacket on aspalt ground, all that surrounded me was fellow disgruntled star-gazers wannabes and the sounds of mosquitoes and dialog playing from a nearby big screen projection of the diaster movie “Deep Impact”.

When at last one tiny star streaked across the sky to great fanfare, I decided that my poetic ovetures was used up for the year and helped myself up, slowly walking home in the breaking dawn.


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