Five Stars

another father’s day

one star.

that motel in mexico

where we had the family reunion

of four hundred introductions and bilingual tousles,

the “suite” with literal scorpions in the bed,

on the curtains,

and in your shoe,

and the cougar chained to the tree in front of the rental car

we decided to sleep in.

exotic before it was fashionable.

two stars.

that magical year when orlando

made it to the nba finals

with all-stars shaq (1) and penny (2),

when nick anderson stole the ball —

from jordan —

and the crowd rivaled a shuttle launch’s

intensity

joy

potential.

three stars.

that dot the sky,

that we’d unfurl together in whatever random city we’d traveled to,

one size fits all night-skies,

across all time,

his belt still hanging where we left it.

four stars.

that i count tonight,

maybe it’s still too bright,