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Pictures of the Moon


by Darryl Price


I really don't want 
to say it.  I don't 
really want to feel 
it. How many times 
does it have to be

said? Some part of you 
knows no one ever 
gets more than a small 
temporary visa 
to these particular 

dreaming stars. 
Everything is ordinary 
until 
it's not. You don't need 
to be told to watch 

your step. We're all restless 
for something more, 
but we don't exactly 
want to be the 
only one standing 

up to describe its 
indescribable 
beauty for others. 
They might take it the 
wrong way again. You 

do seem like a lovely 
tender mess underneath 
all that sexy 
bravado, I'll 
give you that. Love only 

reappears when 
you don't accept it's 
gone. What am I to 
do with such lonesome 
knowledge? Is this what 

you got in this poem 
for? The road sign
always says, carry 
on, but the moon, the
moon, seems to say, enough 

is enough for 
tonight. Lay in each 
other's arms instead. 
Rise when we rise. Everyone's 
leaving. Where

are they going to? 
I always miss you,
but I feel fine. I 
feel fine, but it doesn't 
make me feel fine.

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