give her your blessing
be happy for her, truly

when the sun and moon
meet, there is no fight for
the ocean. Somewhere
across the Atlantic is a
toddler walking back to
a parking lot; premature
fingers holding onto her
father because that is
what she was taught to
do. With the other, she
is pointing to warmth,
I do not know why. But
here, you are an aging
man, gazing at the tide
coming and going, that
is not a song you sing.
Give her the luck, you
do not know how to use.
All the goodness and
all the virtue you thought
drowned with the alcohol.
be happy for her, truly.

because when the sun
and moon meet, there
is no fight for the ocean.
Because when the sun
and moon meet, she
knows its time to go.