The Haunting Moon

Blind people know when the moon is full.
Silvery threads make their presence known
To rich and poor alike,
Casting us all in the same shadow life.

Pets sense it, as do portraits and jello molds.
The translucent signals permeate all matter
Both living and unspirited.
Looming memory strands into emotion cloth.

We remember things normally kept sealed.
Impulses re-image into longings sealed away
Only temporarily, never finally.
The chill we feel is real, again.

We are driving back to your parent’s house.
Journey singing on the radio in the Z,
Lovin’, touchin, feelin’ each other.
Then a cat wails and the curtain falls.

Shiny as that safety pin keychain of yours,
And dull as my over-washed sleeping bag,
The scene is gone.
Dissolved once more into milk’s murk.