The moon

The moon talked to me last night
I couldn’t hear her voice well
She spoke of a laundromat
An empty street on a summer’s night
I read Baldwin in a tiny Japanese house
In a tiny bedroom
I smoked minted cigarettes on the balcony
And ate rice balls at 2 A.M.
The moon talked to me every night
Back then
Now I law below a flowered ceiling
The wine went to my head
And the moon speaks to me again
She speaks of laundromats
I guess
She forgot your name.

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you and i

i sang for you between white trees
i whispered secrets to the snow
somewhere at the other end of the world
a Mountain still holds the secret of my love
buried under the ice
forever dipped in wonder
and nothingness