the stars, a pipe, and the election

The first thing to notice was, of course, the stars.

At 5:30am, they were crystal clear against the black sky, even out here in the suburbs where you would think we would produce enough light pollution to block out such clarity.

But there they were, and as I walked to my car, I couldn't help but think of George HW Bush with his thousand points of light.

I did not want to be thinking of former Bush Presidents—Bush 1 or Bush 2—at 5:30 in the morning, although if I'm honest, I don't want to think about any Presidents at this time right now.

Mostly, at this time right now, I want the election to be over. I want it to be November 7th, and I want these campaign stops and swing states and accusations to be over. It all seems to have been going on for years, as if we've been trapped in a surrealist painting and the world is not what we think it is.

Like this famous one by Magritte, which boldly declares that this image of a pipe is not, in fact, a pipe:

We're told every day, "When I said this, what I actually meant was that."

This is not a pipe.

"And it may seem like the economy is recovering, but not if you look at this report from a different angle."

This is not a pipe.

"The polls may show him in the lead, but not if you take into account people who took two years of French at the high school level but then in college, decided to pick up German."

This is not a pipe.

And on and on it goes, and I want, yes, it to be November 7th, but then I might miss more early mornings like this when I saw the stars, the thousand points of light, and felt that anything is possible, anything, in a world that has a view like that one.