lords over the stoic streetlamp right across the crossroad
(from where I stand waiting for the passenger jeep
that will take me down, back to the city). Finally,
down at another crossroad, of the lonely city highway
which has decided to rid itself of traffic,
the moon glowers and appears heavier,
nearer, than it was an hour ago --
then it explodes.
(My painting, 1991.)
Note: I'm giving credit to poet and painter Jay Zimmerman, whose poem's first line of "The moon explodes" prompted me to write my own.
* * *
Check out My Personal Anthology (12 Poems).
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