Because She's In Love With the Sun

the moon stalks from the balcony without saying goodbye slapping marble railings with rough hands but by Monday evening her tongue is already slurping sunlight from silhouettes and she's two-timing the stars, leaving her kisses on yellow benches above O' Man's Hills where she catches glimpses of blue with pale eyes and sometimes as she lies naked on old Manhattan dreams her feet ache for the familiar pavements, sun-kissed drinking Sunny-D and burping wisps of clouds she rolls from her hammock and staggers into the Pacific after burning her white dress in a bonfire and now she's waiting at the outskirts of nowhere drunk and nostalgic screaming at sunrise, you cowardly fool!