The Stars Look So Right

the stars look so right but I'm a lonely place tonight: closed signs already gone up in the windows; ferris wheel swings randomly at each halfhearted gust of wind cotton candy has spun itself into some hardened clogs down in the machine even the waves have messed up- their synchronicity; coming at the wrong time breaking each others patterns up and if you tried to paint this the paint would run down, mixing into the ocean creating a flamboyant paisley mess. i'd like to clear this canvas and start over again: paint all in shades of white, because only the sun has any color now- just before it plunges into the sea again. and every time I think must be the last time, again- I always forget, and then I cry salty, acrylic tears to think that the sun is gone away forever- so many tears; of so many lovers, over so many years that I think the sea must once have been made entirely of tears; and though I have faith that the sea will never become a stagnant thing, only grudgingly does it ever give up it's dead.