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