There’s a full moon coming in through the screened window. There’s a breeze sneaking in as well, but the moon is the more important detail. But the most important detail, by far, is the one that’s missing; you.
I can picture you in the moonlight; I can pick out a strand of your hair from memory. I can hear a smile from your eyes; if I close mine. I can almost feel your skin the moment before it touched mine.
But that takes concentration.
I’d much rather stand here, bathed in the moonlight and trying to clear my head. Trying to make sense out of the craters on the moon; trying to guess at the temperature of those far away rocks. Wondering if they’d be warm to my touch. Wondering where you are.
Bob Dylan is playing in the background; I wish he’d shut up. He makes not concentrating difficult.
I take another drag from the cigarette I’ve been holding but neglecting to mention. Exhaling, I notice that there are two sets of clouds in the sky tonight- one moving slowly and the other breezing by. I steady my gaze on the moon, and the cloud system that is almost static to its side. The other set of clouds hides and reveals the moon at a pace that’s almost like a pulse. I feel fortunate to witness the equivalent of an interstellar circulatory system. And sorrowful that there is such a thing. That nature lacks creativity and imitates its progeny.