The French Milky Way

It was a still and collected night the first time
I saw the Milky Way Galaxy.
With many Germans, an American and a Polish,
we stood in the French countryside sipping wine
that very well could have come from these hills.

“Look” said Adam. I did and I saw
the faint mist.
A long strip, the opening of escape from our galaxy.
I thought,
“Oh My God, hes lost his marbles.”

“Look” said a German. I did and I saw
a giant crack in the sky with a green hue.
Like poison lips about to kiss.
I thought,
“Oh my God, a mouth that size doesn’t caress, it consumes.”

“Look” said a pointing finger. I did and I saw
a forgotten road.
Still with ruts from wagons and children.
I thought,
“Oh my God, this road can still be used!”

“Look” said creation. I did and I saw
a cut in its flesh.
Stars scattered like specks of blood from the wound.
I thought,
“Oh my God, let me out.”