PIETRA

I see the
moon & the
moon sees
me when I
don’t see
the moon it still
sees me like
God, or your
mother, or the
salesclerk when you
try to lift some gum – or that
nosy old lady in Brooklyn who
peeked with a scowl from her
windowshade as if ready to
shoot me with eyeballs – yet
smiled when I waved.

-ryn.03.2006