Different

Down here, the clouds pulsate like heartbeats. I imagine them pumping blood in and out of our atmosphere, reaching down through my fingertips. The paths of blue scattered lines across the sky act as veins, so full of blood, feeding energy through everything they touch.

One pulse. Maybe two.

Down here, only the ghosts of animals allow themselves to be seen. Everything moves and nothing moves closer. I see a litter kittens scampering through a parking lot; a couple with a flashlight wandering through the forest. Yellow squares of light from house windows unpeel themselves to join the skyline. Parts of the darkness feel like eyes, green eyes, watching quietly with pupils blown, smiling in a film of body heat.

It's all blurry, the way we think.

Pulsating clouds roll over and move on, finding their heartbeats somewhere closer, more recognizable. I realize how close the sky is, and a moment later how incredibly far away. I am trapped underneath it for a moment, like a ceiling of swimming pool water catching reflections from the sun.

I could have fallen asleep there and become one of the unreal creatures flourishing in the echoes where the volume is turned up. Enough blood rushing the head of our planet that reality is dizzy. The whole universe, blushing with me, draping everyone in the quiet heat of it, even as I shivered.

Down here on earth, our visions crawl across the sky and I share a blanket.