The bla bla moon
with his bold, arrogant face
stares at me with giddiness.
He can't shut up about the centuries,
the millions of years he watched
this universe unfold.
He's laughing as he talks about the Romans
who believed in many Gods.
He especially loved seeing the transition from
dinosaurs to feathered little chirpers.
He sees everything, he says, without ever getting jet lag.
There is no difference between the lynching of Blacks just a few years ago,
and the spider weaving her net, which will soon be covered with dew.
There is no difference between the Eastern parakeets going extinct one day in 1924,
and a small girl being raped by the landlord.
He says this with some authority…
There is no difference.
I don't know if I have seen enough beauty in all my lifetimes to second that.
