I do remember
how your side of the
moon was always in eclipse
behind some unknown
deity-you, perhaps,
throwing your own shadow
and always stepping on
mine.
I do remember
how your side of the moon
was always waning into
darkness. I sent a rover
to explore it once.
Nothing came back except
moondust that did not,
despite your promises,
make me fly. I tried to cup my
hands like you did years ago,
tried to make them full
and round
and magnetic,
but the friendship bracelets
were too tangled.
They pulled me away from
you, then. I hope you know
the moon is still half empty
the spider webs are still dewy,
and the unknown deity has
retired to a better place.
Although I must confess,
I kept the moon dust
you left beind. I must confess
to sprinkling some on every day
in hopes I will finally be able to
fly across the Neverland skies
and see all five liters of the
full blood moon.
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