there was a time when I looked to the stars
and I saw your face
it was simpler and less difficult
and I didn’t have to cry when I thought of you

I used to believe that your heart was the moon
and that your sun shone upon me where I walked

but the moon has grown cold
and the sun’s burned my skin
and the stars don’t look like you at all

but the moon shines where it wills
and the sun burns who it pleases
and the stars don’t really look like anything anyway

I didn't mean to, please forgive me?

Long walks at night--
that's what good for the soul:
peeking into windows
watching tired housewives
trying to fight off
their beer-maddened husbands.