At ***** ****'s and Sloppy Joe's
We drank our liquor straight,
Some went upstairs with Margery,
And some, alas, with Kate;
And two by two like cat and mouse
The homeless played at keeping house.

There Wealthy Meg, the Sailor's Friend,
And Marion, cow-eyed,
Opened their arms to me but I
Refused to step inside;
I was not looking for a cage
In which to mope my old age.

The nightingales are sobbing in
The orchards of our mothers,
And hearts that we broke long ago
Have long been breaking others;
Tears are round, the sea is deep:
Roll them overboard and sleep.

yesterday I spoke to the moon.

after a time, with the distance and all
I hardly expected an answer but when
I felt her sigh, I knew she had heard me so I
climbed to the top of a nearby car and
asked her if she could, please,
repeat that.

she hadn't been spoken to in so long, she confided,
she had grown ancient and old and she felt we no longer
spoke her language and
we no longer cared to.

she spoke for a long while, I felt her growing closer and the gap between us
closing. I felt a calm like the calm you feel at sea, and the
calm you feel in the warmth of another person.

if I reached my hands up I could touch surface and
feel her old majesty.

humbled, I asked if once more she could dust the earth with her wind
and kiss my skin, but before she could answer
a car horn ripped the sound waves open and left them
gagging.

as I refocused, my moon seemed as far away as ever
and I folded myself into my coat and went
on my way, disheartened,
to say the least.

it wasn't until, glooming the night away on my couch,  the 11 o'clock news said
that strange and powerful winds were sweeping the nation,
then I knew
my moon
had heard me.

This sleep does not suit me,
this sleep without youth.

Heavy lids and heavy lies the body but
my mind takes shape reminiscent of
waves and the mermaid fins, dreams of
glittering beaches to wake up sweating
mid-winter.

Why is it that I putter and sink into crevices deep, still?
Why is it that I cannot share the moon? Her piercing
brilliance has endured eons alone, and
I feel a comrade in her shivering ripples.

This sleep, my darling,
I will not allow it.