I pulled myself up the steeple, and sat down, finally,
heaving and watching the November stars. A girl was walking
across the quad, in high heels and a mini, and no-one else
in the universe, and there was a bite to the wind. I tore my
best dress on the climb up, so I laughed and blew a kiss to
the moon, to the crickets, to the heating pipes and the
brick pathways. The Earth curved around me, pulling up her
mantle like a skirt, so that I could see the stars on the
other side. There, at my feet, they rearranged to spell my
name.

Back in my bed, through the window, getting cold, feet
covered in dew and tons of homework for tomorrow, I made a
promise that I would never, ever, wear shoes again. The
Laughing God at the center of the universe shook her head,
tucked me under stardust, and sang me to sleep:

Child, the world is sprinkled with you
Dream of towers, of climbing, too
Though your footsteps through the lawn
Will disappear at cricket dawn
Your failures and frustration
I will confine to the sunlit nation

If you see me distracted, looking out the window, know that
I am counting the seconds until sunset.