Luna Poem by Robert VazquezPacheco

The moon is bright but not yet full. She sails slowly
quietly over the streets and the ever-cooling air. Car
sounds and conversations float up into the night air
towards her, as the quiet increases introspection.
Apartment lights wink out like stars behind clouds.
Late nights give a dark weight to thoughts. For some,
pensive and maybe a little melancholy. The weight
of being alone. But enough. Time to stop thinking and
let the night wash over you like waves of forgetfulness.
Give up the day and watch the moon, its halo of light
gleaming through a dirty window. The cool air of autumn
wafts into the room, crossing the keyboard, caressing
the fingers who hunt and peck to put dark letters on
“paper” almost as white as the moon which moves
past the window frame. Thoughts moving through
your head, while the cars sail down the street. Police
sirens, garbage trucks, rumbling buses, cruising cabs,
conversations, and beneath everything, the subway
rattling through the underworld, under water until it
emerges, far from her, into the cool moonlit night.