You need real dark to see stars. A darkness so violent that you can’t see the various shades. Like when you’re coloring in black, and you get these little white spaces that the marker missed. God was in a hurry when he made the night sky. Frantically scribbling with his black Sharpie. That’s why we have stars. The moon is just the desk lamp shining off the black streaks. That’s why it comes in phases. The lamp cranes its neck to get a better view. Sometimes you don’t see it at all. Like when you close one eye, and you no longer see beyond the tip of your nose. A shooting star is a spill of invisible ink. It’s gone before it’s even there. Just like the person you thought you loved. Scribbled over in black marker, they disappeared into the night.