You sit in a vinyl blue seat
The coffee is bitter and sweet
Beside you a cylinder glows
A brass tube where old magic flows
Look through the lens at the black
Find every star that we lack
Cold metal warm in your hand
A map of a faraway land
Like *Monstera* reaching for light
You hold the wide window of night
The diner is humming a tune
While you chase a sliver of moon
The salt shaker stands by your wrist
The air is a silver-grey mist
You pivot the glass to the west
A heartbeat that beats in your chest
Look through the lens at the black
Find every star that we lack
Cold metal warm in your hand
A map of a faraway land
Slow growth in the dark of the loam
A seed that is finding a home
The gears click a rhythmic design
A steady and shimmering line
The waitress is wiping the chrome
A traveler far from his home
You tilt the long telescope high
To capture a piece of the sky
Look through the lens at the black
Find every star that we lack
Cold metal warm in your hand
A map of a faraway land
Just brass and the bokeh of gold
A story that waits to unfold
Rest now in the velvet of blue
The universe waiting for you
