Moonlighting.

Does the moon really exist?
Most nights, I forget it’s there.
I am too focused on
The girl,
The cat,
The stranger,
And the air.

Is anyone sure of what they think?
Most days, I am not.
I am only sure of
The wall,
The sun,
The novel,
My empty cot.

Do prophets dream of ignorant bliss?
Most years, I get lost in the herd.
I try to forget
The job,
The art,
The question,
And the word.

There is something at my window.
It is a starry night’s picture.
Everything I see
The glow,
The sphere,
The wish,
The midnight fixture.

I must jump.