The moon broad and tempestuous
lacking shadow
like bags of polyester draped
over naked asphalt beauty
has descended across the evening
and the empty sky
through this mix of sudden colors
as if I am not alone driving
not turning the wheel
returned from the day like
a candle extinguished.
To search again for life
with the eyes of a poet I will give
weight to this shift in the heavens
even as there is no witness
no curve in the joking of your eyes
I keep no record
of such things. Let us both be free
in the corners of the world
and it will matter little
that the circle is open