you hand the teal blue beige cup of to the last customer, painted with constellations and new year eve

you are a londoneer star

your eyes find mine, your freckles with orion. cassiopeia in ink on your wrist gleams. youwhen you see me. YOU want to watch the fireworks with ME. i check the time; it's 11:11

you flip the and find me at the cafe gray table

"how could you draw orion with

cassiopeia? they are faraway."

you laugh with glee,

"not far in my imagination.

it's always good to imagine."

✡

London holds and I with svelte iridescence painting our fingertips with cetacean blue space paint as they graze each other in the cold wisp of new year's eve

i watch the effervescent hues gleam in your mahogany brown eyes. i think of the when i watched them from afar from the table . you stood at the astral white counter painting lattes. how could it be real?

"it's astronomical."

i look at the sky, at mars

capering with orion, "it is"

i take off my beret, the ebony orion stares back at me. you glance at the beret as we walked through the sheen streets. you look back at the constellations, your smile speckled with

"i liked the old one." you say.

the wind brushes my hair as we walked, your eyes sparkling with the on your lips

✡

evanescent hues of effulgent, glittering gunpowder graze the of orion's saber at 00:00

your chin tilts up, watching the of fireworks embrace us, hold our fingertips a little more closer like orion and cassiopeia on the gray tabletop

wind blow through your dark strands. i eventually look up. fireworks caress cassiopeia as they fade into the horIzon. i watch like us looking up, their eyes mirrors of glimmering vivid explosions

you put your hands in the pockets of your soft blue

"have you ever seen new year fireworks like these before?"

"no, i always stayed at the cafe."

"neither have i." you whisper

fireworks like these. special fireworks. beige fireworks. blue fireworks. cafe fireworks.

i think of sirius as we watch the fireworks as far and as close as rigel and caph. how we may look like the star(s). we could beperhaps but we were orion and cassiopeia.

the prussian blue between our separated hands is

as the fireworks end, you ask, "do you want to go back to the cafe? i could make a latte with orion and cassiopeia drawn together."

"i'd love to.(, love)"

and as we walk back to the cafe, i finally imagined orion and cassiopeia capering together