Meteor Shower, Friday, August Twelfth.

We lay on our backs, blankets to our chins, hooded sweatshirts pulled
tight around our faces, hoping the clouds pass by,
looking for the first one, wondering when, hoping
it's not a waste of time.
the streak covers the whole sky with its tail, we both squeal,
little girls again. Later, as the night grows older, we make our vow
to God. If we can just see it one more time,
then we will go to sleep.
With each successive flash, we continue to break our promises.