Moon Late Talk

The moon told me

that in the early morning

before dawn 

pushes her off,

she watches

as the city slows

to a few flickering neon signs

and stray cars rushing home.

She listens 

to herself breath

and with each exhale

she hears the squeak

of an abandoned shopping cart.

The moon says

she misses the country

where the bat sing

to her every night,

and she watches the fox 

weave in and out of the tall grass.

She sees a lost strangers

in the city and each one

trying to find a warm place

to sleep.

The moon whispers to me

how she remembers 


and being free,

but she settles on the concrete

and tries to draw a forest

with the silhouettes

in the windows.


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