At Eleven, My Lover’s a Moon

how much is too much?
the anatomy of a driving car
a mandolin with no rain

at eleven, my lover’s a moon
his favorite t-shirt’s yellow
he spills coffee 
on the eggshells
of the great cosmic mystery

this might not sound significant
but it could be

if pigeons were paragons 
of infinite sadness

if rainbows were plastic alphabets
building highways 
across our windshields

4 thoughts on “At Eleven, My Lover’s a Moon

  1. I love the picture…a dancer in the waves of the cosmic mystery…so beautiful. And “at eleven, my lover’s a moon, his favorite t-shirt’s yellow, he spills coffee on the eggshells of the great cosmic mystery” is such a wonderful descriptive visual…the moon wearing its yellow t-shirt, spilling over me…over the world.

    Liked by 1 person

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