...for S.M.S., whose legitimate needs lately have given mine the chance to shut up for once.

Could it be that I am not the center of my universe? Is it possible that what I orbit, or the fact that I circle it, holds more significance than my moon-matter-self? I get dizzy in my spinning, forgetting, thinking more about my course than about the oceans that I'm pulling.

But when I see you waiting, sandy-footed for the next wave to wash you, it doesn't matter that I'm round but that I'm around you. I may light the sky, once in a while, but you make my ordinary orbit make sense.