Sometimes it was late
And I was walking outside still seventeen
Into the backyard of the house I grew up in
I would lie in the hammock, looking up
Finding the only constellations I knew
Sometimes humming to myself
Sometimes talking at the sky
Sometimes it was late and I slipped out the back door
And then through the fence and onto the stretch of grass between our houses
And if the sprinklers were on, I was there anyway
Lying in the middle of the belt of green
And waiting for a star to fall
Tracing the paths of planes flying in
And watching satellites drip carefully across the sky