i bought a telescope 

i bought a telescope to use 
as a staircase-- 
it's the only way to
get there you know? 
you unscrew the
eyepiece 
& walk right
inside-- a corridor--
a passageway--
the back door
we were all missing
& it resembles the long
hall in my grandmother's 
apartment-- the one
with the cats lingering
at the far end or
maybe the hallway at 
my parent's house--
always too dimly lit
so that it makes you 
want to run through it--
race into the telescope
with me-- arms 
open-- unafraid of burning
up in the atmosphere--
let your body become space dust
& climb this aisle 
of stairs on all fours
as if you were a child again
going up to the attic to
discover card board boxes--
when we get there the moon
will be empty & we'll 
leave foot prints &
sign our names in the dirt so
that the next person to
walk up there will know
they are not alone & 
i'll have brought butterfly nets
& i'll hand one to you &
show you how easy it
is to catch the stars 
who wonder away 
from their constellation--
you can pinch them by the wings &
we'll set them back where 
they belong in
the sky--
connect the dots & invent
our own star-bodies--
i took the big dipper &
made it into a dragon's head because
that's what its always looked like
to me anyway--
we can sleep out here in
the tent & zipped 
inside it'll feel like
july & lightning bugs will
find the telescope hallway 
& become 
wall sconces-- flickering 
quiet candles--
i'll tell you how 
tomorrow we can climb to jupiter
& you remind me that it's a gas 
planet & i tell you that
part of the fun of a telescope
is pretending that everything
is only a staircase away &
you agree that we can take
a walk on jupiter even if
it is made of mostly helium--
we can steal rings from
saturn to ordain ourselves
& make little halos like
the ones the saints wear in
stained glass windows--
what is the night sky by a stained 
glass window so close
to shattering from 
one of our tossed baseballs--
you remind me that we have to go back
& i let you crawl back inside
first-- through the corridor
light by fireflies
we emerge
in the sun room of our parent's house--
the big bay windows gaping open--
full of street lamp &
blushing with 
the passing headlines 
down the road outside 
the house--
we put back on the eye piece 
& rush-- race
down the hall-- the one 
that's always too dimly lit