at the end of our pizza date, I drove back home and parked on my driveway.

That's when stars began to fall from the sky, and I ate them. The moon's elevator dinged, and I rode it back and forth between my Atlanta home and Halikan, the largest city on the moon. The sky turned into grass and the grass into sky, and I kicked clouds down my street like soccer balls, screaming goallll. Wolves knocked at my front door, handed me tulips, and I invited them in. We sat on my couch and watched a few episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond while munching on strawberry Pop-Tarts. My neighbor fired a rifle, and jasmine petals shot high into the air in a fragrant, white string. Out back, I heard a perfect voice and figured my grandmother was playing her records, but when I opened the screen door, Frank Sinatra stood tall, spotlighted by the blue bug zapper. He sang "Summerwind," my grandmother's favorite. When he finished, I asked him if he could sing it again, but this time in Tagalog. He winked and obliged and began: "Ang hangin ng tag-araw ay umihip..."

I pulled up a chair, grabbed another bite of star, and listened intently.

.