I wonder how stars ended up in the sky.
maybe stars are fish that learned to fly -
or maybe fish are stars that learned to swim.
all I know is I'm clinging to the rim,
balanced between the frothy whitecaps
and constellations tracing an obscure map.
I want the sky to peel off my sticker liner
and adhere me to the ceiling next to Ursa Minor.
but the waves beckon and implore,
praising the embrace of the gritty seafloor.
the wind whispers, you're in control of this trolley car;
you can be a blue tang fish or a blue dwarf star.
either would be better than my precarious perch here
but the water is inky and the choice isn't clear.