Like a dream, the toothwhite
moon looms
far away,
looks
beautiful—
until you remember
this is not a dream,
because you haven't
been sleeping.
And what looks like the moon
is really nothing but
some old rock that got
stuck up there,
lumpy and
pockmarked, freezing,
bald, and barren,
and it makes you
wonder
why you ever bothered
quitting smoking—
makes you
suddenly,
in that moment, very
suspicious of the government—
makes you
want to
take something—
anything,
anything at all
that's out here
under this moonlight tonight—
take it,
make it yours,
and destroy it—
just so it
doesn't feel like it
belongs to you anymore.
