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Don't You Wonder, Sometimes?BY TRACY K. SMITH
After dark, stars glisten like ice, and the distance they spanHides something elemental. Not God, exactly. More likeSome thin-hipped glittering Bowie-being—a StarmanOr cosmic ace hovering, swaying, aching to make us see.And what would we do, you and I, if we could know for sure That someone was there squinting through the dust,Saying nothing is lost, that everything lives on waiting onlyTo be wanted back badly enough? Would you go then,Even for a few nights, into that other life where youAnd that first she loved, blind to the future once, and happy? Would I put on my coat and return to the kitchen where myMother and father sit waiting, dinner keeping warm on the stove?Bowie will never die. Nothing will come for him in his sleepOr charging through his veins. And he’ll never grow old,Just like the woman you lost, who will always be dark-haired And flush-faced, running toward an electronic screenThat clocks the minutes, the miles left to go. Just like the lifeIn which I’m forever a child looking out my window at the night skyThinking one day I’ll touch the world with bare handsEven if it burns.