Lunatic
I see
her eyes
reflecting
from the quartered
moon shining on
my grinning
forehead
as I trudge
around long
suburban
blocks thinking
of nothing
nothing
nothing
but her
I laughI fear
aloud
at how silly I sound
in silence, in
darkness broken
only by pinpricks
poked by stars
& that inimitable
grin reflecting
her eyes
upon me
that I will wave
my arms like mad
and be dragged
away: a lunatic
whose love
for the moon
is mistaken
for madness
October 5, 2008
Thanks to Christine Stewart for her help in editing this poem.
