Getting in the face of the moon
go away from me moon
you’re really making waves
you son of an eclipse!
look at that pack of cigarettes down there in a puddle
the ones I bought to pine with you over Cochranville
the kind I used to buy out there
Are you gonna pick ’em up
No!
you lunar-atic
I’ll drop you like morning sunlight
get out of my eyes
I belong listless in the dark of this balcony
where no one comes to call
I burned up your romance
when I set fire to this building
and the flames shot up to you
they’ll be no more longing under you
you smudge with phosphorescent divinity
they’ll be no more waxing and waning
no full moon murder of words
or low lit like a sleepover when I was younger
and it was so late nobody wanted to listen to another CD
I won’t be playing you on a dying disc player anymore
I wont look up at you as the wound respite of the night
band aid of the sky
here come the sirens
and the dead people on the way to the hospital
what will your hollow musings through these balcony bars have to say to them?
what draws me to draw you
too bright sand dollar of the ocean dark
outta my grasp
I’d like to moon you