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Through bulky binoculars
aimed by an astronomer friend
on a chilly damp evening
early in 1986,
David Fischer witnessed
the return of Halley’s Comet.
To Fischer, who happened at the time
to be both myopic and lovestruck,
the misty blot in the western sky
appeared heart-shaped.
In fact, Fischer, without his spectacles,
saw all the countless specks of heavenly light
as hearts.
“So that’s it, huh?” murmured
another non-astronomer, unimpressed.
“Isn’t it supposed to have a tail?”
The return of Halley’s
Comet! thought Fischer,
whose own parents had
not yet been gleams in
the eyes of Fischer’s
grandparents when
last this glowing
mysterious mist had
visited earthly creatures.
The return of Halley’s Comet!
How curious, thought Fischer,
that human beings should suppose
this mass of whatever-it-is is
coming back to us.
Isn’t the comet, Fischer wondered,
actually only
making its rounds
(or making its ellipses)?
The comet is just passing by. Didn’t
even pause to say Hello.
We call that returning?
Like love, thought Fischer.
Love makes its rounds.
Like love, thought Fischer,
squinting into
the endless silence of the sky.
Like love, thought Fischer,
gazing upon
the twinkling hearts above
and warmly wishing
on that winter night
that his own true love
might return
and stay.
♦
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