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- & forgets to take off his soccer cleats.
- A lady friend bellows, Look at those obliques!
- Moon is embarrassed, turns pumpkin & sunflower
- in the cheeks. A moon walks into a bar
- & a flashlight mistakes him for another flashlight,
- trying to pick him up. The moon is too drunk to trust his own diminishing moral code,
- so he consults his lady-friend in the bathroom.
- She tells him, let him blow you, but don’t touch him or anything.
- The bathroom is playing “Kiss From A Rose” by Seal,
- which is Moon’s favorite song.
- He takes it as a sign and goes back into the smoky bar,
- ready to be fondled by a stranger.
- The flashlight is talking to a boat-shaped chandelier.
- He orders her a mind-eraser and thinks he’s suave.
- The flashlight avoids eye contact with Moon
- while telling the boat-shaped chandelier about how pre-Raphaelite she looks,
- how bright she is, like a banana leaf!
- Moon thinks, don’t get so down on yourself.
- People don’t think about you as much as you do.
- A moon walks into a bar & people try to cop a feel,
- claiming, I’ve never felt anyone’s moon before.
- The moon surprisingly contains a lot of muscle.
- A moon walks into a bar
- & people ogle at his big soft legs, like they’re made of sugar. A moon walks into a bar
- & his hair looks a bit oily. Some Chinese claim to worship the moon,
- offering him a slice of honeycake. He prefers to drink beer
- out of a sippycup. A moon walks into a bar & accidentally gets salt-hard,
- turned on. & people notice. & people hand the moon
- their business cards, trying to network.
- They ask Moon, what was your major in college?
- & Moon replies, rhetoric. They shut up.
- A moon walks into a bar & somebody says, My friend Jupiter, he has a LOT of moons,
- & people bar-hop to one closer to the sun, with more breathing room.
- They finally leave Moon alone. A moon walks into a bar
- & prays to Father, Son & Holy Spirit. He looks for Earth, his own Father. He forgets
- that right now he is living on Earth, not in His crater-womb but holding his hands, on the ground.
- You know that trite quote about footsteps? You know the one,
- the way it’s endlessly re-printed on funeral programs. I was carrying you, my Son, all this time.
- Not many people know that Moon’s footsteps are clouds. On overcast days,
- Moon exercises with sooty allure and a pedometer, hoping to shrink
- to the size of a goose-necked banana. Earth stares back at his son, remarking,
- a disappointment. A moon walks into a bar
- & stares out the window at an Irish Nightingale. He’s convinced
- she may be the reincarnation of a girl who died young, the tallest
- girl in the class. She has no friends, in this life or the one before.
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