Look at the moon, she said.
Look at the moon, look at the moon.
The way it pastes itself onto that blanket of black
And stares with the whites of its eyes.

One big eye, bulging above,
Scrutinizing our species,
Asking me questions about Love
And other things I claim to understand.

Leave me alone, won't you?
Oh big, bulging moon of persistent
gazing insolence.

Does it speak?
Does it say: Look at the human,
Look at the tiny, tiny human.
Why does it stare at me
with those speculating specks of eyes?

I am dust, you are dust.
We are all dust, floating together.
Look at the moon or look at the human,
It is all the same.