I don’t trust the stars.
From birth to thirteen,
I swore them nonexistent.
City lights clouded my gaze,
so I resorted to picture books and holidays.

This is my last day in Portland. 
For the next five months. 

Tomorrow, around nine, 
I'll drive to PDX and 
take off on a red eye for New York. 

The first time I saw the stars, 
I was twelve at Girl Scout camp. 
We pitched tents under the deep navy sky, and one by one, they appeared. 
Our little flashlights couldn't dim them. 
They were eternal and everything, 
and I couldn't believe how lucky I was to be a part of the universe. 

I don't miss them. 
Why miss what you never had?

I go back to the city of dreams and no stars tomorrow.
I go back to the city full of stars tomorrow,
and yet, 
staring at the Pacific Northwest sky, 
I've never felt less alone.