It was dark and cold night. Looking back and up, the moon
was a thin and useless crescent, barely visible.
‘What a wasted moon,’ I thought.
“A stupid moon,” I mumbled to myself as if to finish a conversation.
It looked deflated, artificial, soulless, and cold. Not poetic at all.

I’m coping with tough decisions
a victory and perhaps one martini too many.
Peter (my bf) called, when I was at Toads (a local bar).
We usually talk on Tuesdays at about 11.
It was noisy in there
I was a little tipsy.
He became a little irritated.
It didn’t go well.
Martinis and authority don’t mix.

I handed my thesis in today, 80 days early.
I've been working on it obsessively.
finger to lips, like a secret  I can be obsessive.
It’s a 60 page ‘first draft,’ theoretically.
“Can I turn in a first draft for your review?”
He looked surprised, “Sure.” I handed it over, and that’s that.
Every ‘first draft’ I’ve ever handed in has gotten an A.
“You’re CrAzY,” Sunny chuckled, “We gotta celebrate!”

“Please don’t hold the door open,” the librarian said.
I jumped, I hadn’t seen her sneaking up on me.
How long had I been standing there?
I’d been lost in thought.
I focused on her now.
She was 50 maybe, or a hundred—who knew?
Her face needed moisturizing badly,
her wrinkles were like cracks in marble.
She looked frowny.

Why is everyone frowny tonight?
“Sure,” I said, facetiously, throwing my arm up like the door was hot.
The door was now free to close.
And the world was a better place.
Once I’d turned and stepped into the library,
I decided It was too bright and too hot there.
So I left.

The second I was outside, in the refreshing cold, Sunny appeared.
“There you are,” she said, like she had lost something.
“You walk too fast,” and the girl with her laughed.
Sunny can always pick up a girl—it’s like she’s magnetic.
"Let's go home,” she added, “we’re going to pay for this tomorrow.”
She hooked my arm in hers and we followed the path,
the three of us, like the yellow brick road.
.
.
A song for this:
Drunk On Love by Basia
Data & Picard by Pogo

Give me a thousand kisses.
I will not feel them.
Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred.
I will not feel them.
Old men and their centuries of crooning lend me nothing.
My heart is still, my night endless,
my thirst eternal.
Images of rivers, lakes, oceans
quench my thirst like nothing else,
yet drinking is ever the more repulsive.
The brief light has set.
da mi basia mille.
I will not feel them.

I dashed (off the enclosed poem) yay
while safely secured within
white horse open sleigh
after reading following
pray lemme know if ye uttered oy vey.

Profound insights divulged
during our most recent family zoom
Approximately seven hundred
and fifty four months since exiting womb,
yours truly (sole son
of late Boyce Brandon -
yes she named him
after paternal grandmother
Sadie, her mom's Yiddish name
Basia Brana or Brandla)
me currently ensconced within unit B44

analogous to catacomb
amid Highland Manor Apartments
I dwell - our livingsocial hole in the wall
among grateful dead residents
facility likened to metaphorical tomb
each stone individually moved one at a time
courtesy hearty and hale archeologists
resident to Qom
(a city in northwestern Iran -
place of pilgrimage for Shiite Muslims)

to imbibe on spiritual succor
and become comfortably numb
acquiring appropriate trailing appellation,
yes a USDA, FDA, B Corp... and
Pink Floyd approved nom de plume,
which feeble poetic brainstorm
begat within mine
sixty plus shades of gray matter,
which exhaustive mental effort
induced silent but deadly ka-boom

one Matthew Scott Harris
rent asunder vaporized to smithereens,
hence each his personal possessions
cherished as prized heirloom
no trace left behind
regarding pulverized lovely bones,
nevertheless burnt offerings
specialists did painstakingly exhume
where Ashkenazi temple will bloom.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
My humblest apology for lame rhyme
with previous word similar to crypt
yours truly deserted and he gypped
thee while crawling
across Sahara during nighttime
dehydration subsequently
found me tight lipped
I called Uber, but could not get a lyft.

Papa - purportedly named
after paternal grandmother
Sadie, her mom's Yiddish name
Basia Brana (or Brandla),
she took two B letters and
found American boys' names
that kind of echoed
her mother's names in letters
and sounds too: Boyce Brandon).

Conversation with eldest sibling
apprised me of entitlement
heading this endeavor with poetic ring,
plus she (same sister) emailed
specifics, a financial life raft
I will devotedly and blessedly cling.

Gratuity his (General Electric)
life insurance policy
totaling $37,063.00
divided three ways
bequeathed to yours truly
and my two non-twisted sisters.

Aforementioned dollar figure
divided three ways equals
12,354.3333333,
which tidy sum
could help me
alleviate outstanding
credit card debt.

Upon acquiring allotted dividend
tattered credit history I will mend
eldest daughter would commend
no rhyme nor reason accrual twist
of fate unfortunately happened

impossible mission to comprehend
how yours truly became deadened
abominable hand to mouth existence
turned scofflaw criminally hardened
not really but makes for good legend.

Figurative dark shadow ameliorate
I must, cuz unpaid charges create
unnecessary uneasiness and emasculate
like invisible fetters tellingly generate
principal abuzz with interest initiate
tingling goosebumps think back,
when Iraq invaded Kuwait.

Whatever portion remains after bank
receives their due, inherited windfall
(lemme please me earnest and frank)
metaphorically teetering on pull lank
lesson learned while marriage doth tank

hence joint account activated between
yours truly and wife crocheting machine
eventually a future blanket methinks green
backs could be pocketed, especially
since legal tender equals slim pickings,
which hoop fully Spartan existence lean
years can be supplanted with obscene

wealth (cryptic words) hinting
play philanthropist so the missus
and her consort can live splendid
like king and queen,
else we may consider enlisting
contraband to acquire
laundered moolah crisp and clean.