Thursday, January 16, 2014


Another full moon.

So many full moons.

They climb into the night only to sit on the horizon as I snake my way through the hustle of early traffic. A motor cycle splits the silence, bare knuckles on a wood bar. Look at me.

I want to look at the moon.

I watch as it settles onto the sleeping woman of a ridge and then sinks. Gone.

Last night I sat alone for a drink, the beer aptly named Blue Moon. It came with a slice of orange.

I ate the pulpy flesh and considered the rind as a basketball game played on a big screen. The game was muted and the players sliced up and down the court in silence, like they were under water.

So young, fast, and strong. Their bodies and passion for winning our entertainment.

The moon shone through a window.

I thought I might eat the rind, bitter as shoe leather.

But only rolled it into a tight knot, a token of despair, and left it in the glass before walking out into the cold bath of moonlight.

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