the moon covers the ocean

leaves swirl and i am lost. it’s been a long day in the city of dreams.
not all dreams are nice.

she leans on my shoulder. it’s an unusually cold night — technically november, now — and i’m happy i brought a jacket big enough to cover us both.
you expect me to find a subway, drunk in midtown?
you already found me. that was the hard part.
hands fumble for cards, enough plastic to get us home. unfortunately, i know exactly where i am.

she cries. the clouds were good fortune for a half moon; blood as bright as my shirt —
it won’t wash out!
it won’t show, either.
but now just as dark as everything else. red is a sharp color.

the clock ticks, trying to carve time into something we can understand.
it’s a waste, you know.
what?
spilling your nights on purpose. you can rest as long as you like when it’s over.

time and vessels dilate.
you’re the moon tonight — you only ever show half of yourself.
first or last quarter?

a year ago i was lost. but that could just as easily be now; it’s terrifying how time moves, not because it’s quick but because it’s unstoppable. all that you have will continue to be slowly washed away like rocks under crashing waves. it’ll overtake you and me and everything we know,
and we’ll all be swept out to sea.

isn’t it reassuring? everything will be forgotten. i won’t remember what hurts.
that might be all you’ll remember.

i don’t want to forget the moon, or you or anything. but every time i sleep i’ll lose a little more until nothing’s left.
that’s what makes everyone you love so precious — you’re going to lose them. if we were here forever you’d never care about anyone.

that ineffable yearning to be back at a time and place
where you dove fully into a dark, glittering world, under a sky so vast it could swallow you without a trace
where we were lost, me in time and you in space
and your yawning half-moon accepted our offerings of joy and lust and fear and pride, and promised to keep them safe.

everything we thought and felt, everything we were and are, will be lost to the rushing tides of everything that will be.

whoever comes after us — they’ll continue on, just like we could have?
better, i think. that’s the point.

and when we’re carried out to the ocean
we’ll see the moon before we go under.