Talk about a Dragon

If you can get used to it—
Enough so you can savor
The details without losing

Some marvel at the weirdness
Of being unknown, alone,
Unseen in what you’re doing—

Anonymity is fine
To the point of exquisite,
Any hours spent in your head

When no one cares where you are,
What you’re doing or thinking,
An empty space late at night

Or early in the morning,
Or both. Whatever nothing
Much you can get to yourself

To get yourself to that place
Where you may notice something
No one is sharing with you,

Like the strange phenomenon
Similar to shooting stars,
But slower and more local

Confined to one nearby cliff
In the small hours of clear nights,
Long streaks of light from the sky,

Reddish, smeared, like burning chalk,
Vertical above the cliff,
Silent and gone. There you are.