Waiting for take out bored with my phone
nothing to read but that chart on the wall
Milky Way 4.37 light years distant
Alpha Centauri’s triangle of fire
red dwarf Proxima’s silent interstellar
waltz spinning orbital elegance
as I get so bored with over-chewed
chatter convinced I belong somewhere else but
nowhere feels like home except stars
186,000 miles per second aching
through my allegro muddle of tears
clumsy disappointments of mortal disorder
sun A and sun B glowing Proxima
mystical trio in balanced configuration
delighting this earth bound soul.