I kind of forgot about the honey moon the other day–okay, I didn’t really forget, I was just really tired that evening and I didn’t feel like staying up to watch it rise. Although in retrospect I probably should have, because once it did rise it shone so brightly into my bedroom that it woke me and ruthlessly kept me awake. I finally had to get up and read half a book and write several pages of deathly prose before I could shed the restlessness it provoked in me. In the morning I was so tired the whole night felt like a dream. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe we’re all dreaming the moon; isn’t it kind of preposterous, after all?
full moo an uncompleted word in the search bar
she slips the potatoes
out of their jackets
where the moon should be; a semicolon