Jay Sizemore

All the Light in the Wild Blue Sky Jay Sizemore

I can't see the Northern Lights Here, there's the cricket crescendo of dusk, night like an opaque glass between my heart and the stars, really just smog and street lamps that buzz more than the whiskey in my guts. Isn't it romantic how the sun tries to kill us like some drunk vagrant swinging his fists in the air, but his rage is just another form of beauty, another form of light that dances in and out of existence, waves like music manifested as luminescent sheets in the sky, something so breathtaking it would take a lifetime to describe just that moment, that moment anchoring you to now, with an unseen battleship large as the moon, trying to pull you over the horizon. That's what I imagine it to be like, while I sit sipping my drink, hoping no one breaks into my house when I sleep and dream of driving North, my internal compass in constant spin.