We stood outside our car
in the gravel turnout
at the top of Laurales Grade
trying to see the Perseids
I saw two magnificent streaks
as you scanned the sky
from the milky way to the Big Dipper
we heard rustling in the tall grass
a mountain lion
or something sinister
or the wildfire just
eight miles and four days distant?
I swore I could hear it breathe.
You squinted,
frustrated by near-missed sightings
while I choked on the bones of imagined disasters:
our suv sliding down the foggy mountain
one of us grabbed by a sneaker wave at Monastery beach or
sumbling off a cliff side trail
as many possibilities as there are postcard-worthy vistas
years spent haunted by such visions
learning to dismiss them
reality more reluctant to dissolve,
even as i returned to the moment:
the cosmos still intact
the brush gone silent
the child attempting to sleep
fellow stargazers in their cars
tiny humans bearing witness
in the safety of our distance
wishing upon comet dust
for a future