Nexus

  

hopping into shoes

skipping two steps at a time

checking my watch

I scramble down four flights of stairs

(‘don’tfalldon’tfalldon’tfall’

singing in my head)

and burst outside

into the fresh night,

excited, eyes on the sky.

late hour, empty streets

a smell of transgression in the air

(like Steve Walker ages ago

sitting cross-legged on my floor

in Cambridge at 5 a.m.

saying he’s the king of the streets

on his bike at that hour).

 

I scan the vast vault above:

the meagre scattering of stars,

a few tattered plumes of white clouds,

and, lower down, tops of trees,

secretive and dark.

 

the app flashes relevant data:

appears on the horizon: 00:26 a.m.

maximum height: 80 degrees

point of entry: SW

point of exit: NE

visibility on the horizon: 5 minutes

 

with a rustle of anticipation

somewhere inside, I crane my neck

dangerously upwards

and wonder what the couple

approaching me think,

then burn with the itch

to pull them by the sleeve

and tell them to look up!

something amazing

is about to happen,

the ISS will cross the sky

400 km above our heads,

a tiny dot with six people on board

perhaps looking down and seeing

our electric grids of sparkling lights

hazed over with breaths, fears, desires,

and us, wrapped in our

cosmic loneliness.

 

but the moment has passed -

they are gone, and it’s

just me under the weight

of darkness above.

 

then it’s suddenly there:

an evenly moving tiny light,

entering my field of vision

and gliding smoothly between

the glitchy stars, steady

reliable, and measured out,

going about its business

while I stand bouche bée

but smiling with all of me

because IsawitIsawitIsawit

and follow it with my gaze

as far as my eyes will go

feeling lucky to be here, now,

at this universal nexus,

with only one word to say it all,

wow.