-
- So it’s the fucking moon. Big deal. As ifyou haven’t seen it before, tacked to the skylike a rotten hunk of meat, a maudlin love
-letter (the i’s dotted with hearts) hungon the sky like ninety-eight theses.Don’t stare at it like it means anything.
-Walk past it quickly, eyes averted.Don’t give it the chance to collect meaningfrom your outstretched hand like a pigeon.
-Ascribing it a will, calling it fickle, orthinking it has any say or even an opinionof your affairs is a mistake: it’s separated
-from you by three hundred eighty thousand milesof emptiness, staring at you blankly like a childor your reflection when you found your love broken
-in the dark, when time fell apart, broke down,started following you around everywhere, moonfaced,doggedly asking where you’re going, like you know.
-Don’t try side stepping time, either: it’s onlya river you’re stuck in, carrying you under the glareof the moon nuzzling closer, cooing in your ear
-like a dove that escapes into the empty sky at dawn.
-