"We were both looking at the same moon,
I think," she replied.
I'd overheard her in passing
On the Upper West Side.
Where players and poets,
Tune cellos and turn words round,
Where sidewalk cracks snag you,
And dogs, well, enough said.
Maybe that's it.
There are twin moons!
Shining down upon us
their celestial lights.
Might account for…
UFOs,
Conspiracy theories,
And political unreason.
Moreover, might explain…
The Color Wheel,
Hues of hierarchy forever depicting,
the Favored and shading the Forsaken.
Twin Moons!
Silly idea, really.
Of course, merging two moons,
That's a job for the fair Selene,
Backing up the chariot,
To seamlessly unite the pair.
But, I'm not sure she's prepared,
Learned the shift pattern,
Uses the rearview mirror,
Turns her head around,
Or is interested much,
In, reversing her course.
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I think the moon, like truth, may be suffering an identity crisis these days.
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The moon is so mysterious and I love how you incorporated the goings on around it.
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What a moon definition! 😍😍
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I’m glad you liked it. Thanks for stopping by!
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I think we forget we share the same moon, the same soil, and so on.
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Yes! Exactly! Thanks for stopping by.
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I really like your second stanza, for isn’t that exactly what we do? As to all this political unreason….shoot, can there be any accounting for that? Wish we could send some people to a second moon, out of Earth’s orbit!
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Completely agree! Thanks for stopping by.
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