meteor shower

streaks of silver
across the dark
secret sky: we lie
in my car as
the space between
us shrinks into
a conch, a shell
of our would-be-
well, and i, well—
i cry,
noticing it's all
just a miracle
unfolding in
the dark secret
sky of my thoughts.
how many
of life's displays
will we miss
waiting for
our break point?