The moon broad and tempestuous

lacking shadow

like bags of polyester draped

over naked asphalt beauty

has descended across the evening

and the empty sky

through this mix of sudden colors

as if I am not alone driving

not turning the wheel

returned from the day like

a candle extinguished.

To search again for life

with the eyes of a poet I will give

weight to this shift in the heavens

even as there is no witness

no curve in the joking of your eyes

I keep no record

of such things. Let us both be free

in the corners of the world

and it will matter little

that the circle is open