Not the moon itself, but the light that fell from it*
reflected off the papery wings of moths
I almost mistook for shooting stars.

“Surely that’s not the ending”
Lauren slurped her soda noisily
as the credits began to roll.
“Shirley doesn’t live here”
was my only reply.

Cars began moving backwards
in my window, while pebbles
hurled themselves toward my windshield
as if to say
“Don’t. You’re not ready for this”.

My heart that had jumped during
the movie explosions not 5 minutes
earlier, was now oddly still.
Quietly shouting its disapproval.

Lauren didn’t make a sound
when we passed the street to her house
nor when my tires left gravel
and began rolling on sand.

Nor did she make a sound
when my tires hit the water
coming in from the lake ahead
as the car plunged into
the black black depths
and I could no longer control
our descent.

A moth fluttered against my window
trapped, as the moonlight disappeared.
It looked nothing like a shooting star now.

“Surely this is unfair to the moth”
my heart tried.
“Surely doesn’t live here”.