Merge

Something is being someone down under the clover. Touching the clover’s head, quaffing night’s moisture from it. Night’s moisture is another galaxy altogether. If you go out into the streets at night, you may see mist turning just feet above the street like a Milky Way galaxy. You go to the next street and there is another galaxy. It glows with a faint light older than thought. On another street, two galaxies are merging. Dark houses line both sides of the street. No one is watching this. There is an old metal mailbox painted blue. This is on the corner. You reach for the wrong word, like happiness.