From my seat on the moon

Lets try this again,

             I can see Mars from here,

I can feel the wind from the chariots.

Feel the wild  manes of the horses and the lions.

I can see Mars, now better then ever,

It is not because of the clouds, though.

                     The clouds do not care what is visible, and what is not.

They will bring rain, and thunder and lighting, and suitcases to big to store overhead.

I can see Mars from my seat on the moon,

From my seat on the plane,

                                                  Swimming in oceans here,

and in oceans there.

I have to shield my eyes from the headlights,

“They are approaching too quickly ”

                        I think to myself…

 Swinging in a hammock here,

and swinging in a hammock there.

The sparkling stars cant shield their own eyes,

they cant wipe away the chemicals,

 or  the venom,

they cant hide from Nostradamus,

or  the telescopes

or the slowly creeping spiders,

                             and their silk…

The whole world is wrapped in silk,

sleeping…sleeping…

singing…singing…

                         Summer is here,

so is the rain

so is the rain,

I can still see Mars from my backyard,

                                                                     the fireflies try and tell me;

try to reason with me and lie to me,

                   “look at me”

“look at us”

“we are the stars”

They might be the stars-

but not tonight

They might be the snakes-

but not tonight.

Tonight we turn blue,

                            like the moon,

like the bubbling water

gurgling fourth from the mouth of a lonely fountain.

Overflowing into the streets, and into the buildings,

now the water is black with ink,

   Black from all the different forms,

and Octopi who used all eight

arms to escape,

                     to climb the walls to join me,

and I am no longer turning blue.

                                                     and everyone is talking about it,

Talking about sleep and about the water turning black,

and about the long lines on the way to the stadium…

I cant see Mars anymore,

I think the chariots finished the race and they are gone now,

I fear they finished the race, and I will not see them again.

and I am  turning blue once again,

blue like the oceans,

the oceans here and the oceans there,

               The oceans in which I swim.

The oceans in which I bathe.

The oceans in which I become.

The world is blue too,

at least from my seat on the moon,

                                      at least that’s what the fireflies tell me.

 

 

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