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(Written for a contest “Write a poem based on a poem.’
Inspired by: “My Cat Is High, and So Am I” by Thomas W. Case)

Honey, I was stoned, so stoned.
I hardly knew what was going on.
That’s when I saw it was gone.

The moon, I mean - hold on -
Takes a swig of tart, but sugary lemonade
I watch the moon - when it’s there - you know?

I’ve always loved the moon - its reflective glamor,
the way it seems to bend light around it,
like a beautiful woman walking into a bar.

The moons like my cat, she has beauty, without vanity
- and without much gravity - like, you know - the moon.

But as I was saying, it was gone - suddenly?
It felt sudden - and visceral - like I’d misplaced something.
I know what you’re thinking, and no, it wasn't behind clouds.

So anyway, man, I looked around and there it was, as if by magic,
it couldn’t have been any clearer and it's never looked nearer,
than it was, right there, in my rear-view mirror.

I had to laugh. You see, I was stoned - so stoned.
Stoned - but I’m never alone, when I can commune with the distant,
inconstant, love of my life, the ever-argent moon.

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