urban moonlight

Has there ever been a poem about the moon hanging over
a transit center?

It looks as if it were balanced on a construction site crane above
a line of people waning in the cold hoping

for their next connection. I think of the day you
wanted to follow me

home and I wouldn’t let you — you wanted to pull
me back from my distant, dreamlike

satellite &
into your self-centered world, and I resisted

because resistance is my best game. –You have a certain look.
I wouldn’t mess with you.

a friend’s roommate once said, deciding not to worry about
me as I walked home alone after dark.

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