Egypt.

When the sky was thinner and water faster,

we would chase the falling stars,

thousands of them each night,

and we'd sprint until we found them

already exploded against the land 

into a million bits,

pieces piled on top of one another,

covering all water,

smothering all green;

the stars there, 

broken and soft and yellow and warm,

running through the grooves between our knuckles,

trying to feel the fragments

childishly forgetting to wonder why.