Sausage Stars

I like sausage stars.
Microcosms of sausage betwixt
An aurora of cheese
The pimentos and olives
Streak across the night sky
Bake for an hour in the heart of the sun.

I could fly
between the rings of ranch
past the peppers
around the wonton crystal
of the star's radiance
But if we're being frank
They're orbiting me
This time of year
I am awash in their glow

Shame, since everyone else
is always so full so early
But I am a black hole
I have not grown old of the radiance of stars

So I fill myself with a constellation
And sit happily as they supernova.