MIDNIGHT BLUES

You don't know

a lot, 

but you think 

it's safe to assume 

that

all things 

are desperate—

to open up 

and show you

what they've got. 

You suspect—

there are 

all kinds of feelings 

you haven't met 

the words for yet.

Last night, 

you could

see the shiny 

milkwhite 

quarter moon,

ringed 

with tiny

forever stars

and cradling 

the ghost 

of 

the full moon 

in its spindly arms

and felt 

willing to bet—

someone 

or something 

was 

trying to forget 

everything 

that has 

ever happened,

and yet, in the process—

inadvertently 

thinking of something 

really big

that hasn't yet.