for all those fools out
pacing streets & straddling corners.

blame the moon

when elbows & knees
search for you
under the downy comforter.

blame the moon

when you must unlearn your past,
that ‘yes’ & ‘no’ can mean
the same thing.

blame the moon

when you stare at the light fixture before
bed & notice it is shaped like a breast,
all chrome nipple & frosted cup.

blame the moon

when you can’t recognize yourself,
all flat hair & squint
in the bathroom light.

blame the moon

when your voice hovers, a whisper,
like the echo of wine glasses

blame the moon

for this night is nothing but a felt-tip
drawing, a rendering of
that time when you were in love.