Category: hello, moon

our Irish friends say there are good ships
moon. and wood ships that
sail the sea. but the best ships of all
are friendships true.
and may they always be.

Sláinte.

bite off the top of corn candy
moon. bite off the bottom.
the middle is you.

a year is a year. then
another, moon. time has a way
of tellin the truth.

you look like a magic 8 ball
moon. except somebody wiped all the color
off you.

(tell Jim to concentrate)
(and ask again)
(it’s hard to outwit an icosahedron)

everything comes full circle
moon. here’s to families
old and new.

you might havta do your own laundry
moon. cuz no one round here’s got a
laundry shoot.

(speed scrabble?)
(maybe)
(pressin shirts?)
(craazzzy)

much later than we expected
moon. gonna be tempting
to hit the snoooooooooze.

whatever you do, don’t call
moon. and whatever you do, don’t write.
and do not send a telegram, pigeon or bat.
or signal with flashing lights.

don’t send a note in a bottle.
by courier, Par avion, or boat.
and whatever you do,
do not shoot up a flare.

(Jim‘ll go up in smoke)
(who sends bats?)

If The Moon Wrote An Ode To Your Luggage:

…this is an ode to your luggage.
and the way you consistently stuff it.

with pressed shirts and trousers. and minty
foot powder. and all a world traveler might need
for the shower.

you skip all the extras. yet step out
in style. as you glide through the skies
on your platinum miles.

you’ll never pay fees. or stand
in a queue. because all that you need’s carried
on with you. and it slides so discreetly. right under
the seat-y. holding costumes, stilettos and
eyelash glue.

always there at your heels,
wherever you tug it. until
into the overhead bin you tuck it:

your luggage