Seeing the Moon Is Me

The mystic moon was hidden again
Her face veiled by the McDonalds Red
of the fresh fish, the souring
soup stock smells languishing from morning


It was a wet winter, cold rain, stupid me
But warmth pushed against my body,
all around me she shivered. I wanted to hold
her in my arms, burnt through my heat.


The loneliness surrounded me, engulfed me,
trapped me in its black blanket
As men grasped their briefcases tightly,
women held children
close and children held each other, there was
no disconnect , no more misery that I could
grasp. They watched
And still she pushed closer, nearing
her fingers around my neck, gently


making my love tangible, and a
physiological
capacity held within an
emotional
construct. It at least, warmed
my heart. I remembered who I
was again.