Not Just another Tuesday Evening Sunset 

In dusty fuchsia
the hill held the palm trees
as the ocean nibbled on the sun.
I could hear it slither,
as it slipped away
like a perfect wedge of melon
into a lover's mouth.
It kept on shining though,
this swallowed sun,
on a sliver of a moon
that rose with perfect timing,
lit like some slow UFO
in the western sky
watching me sip chardonnay.
It wasn't until the magic diffused
and turned the moon into a moon,
that I noticed the waitress;
her eyes were the color of a secret ...
not just another Tuesday evening sunset. 

July: 2003

Moon Undressed

I didn't miss seeing the moon
dressed in fog surrounding the trees,
then pulled to earth with ease.

In the room, I knew it by name
from the color on the walls
that were the same,
and the sleepy smile he made,
wrapped in perfect crumpled sheets,
his eyes closed tight,

asking ... "Is there a full moon tonight?"

I left the warm to find the hole
that looks into the place
where magic makes love
to the earth's still things, dirt bound.

The sky was muted silver,
(soft shutters almost closed),
a feather of an eyelash,
down in softened bloom of rose
made dusty lavender.

There, the dark was cast aside
by the pale shiver that fell over me,
tip-toeing barefoot across the damp
to the pond where I could see,
in perfect circle around circle
reflected there with me,
the moon, perfectly undressed.

Yes, there is a full moon I told his back
as I pulled the cover of his skin over my sleep.

April: 2002