The moon says hello.
I wave to be polite.
The moon hides her face and blushes.
Behind the buildings,
Behind the telephone poles,
Behind the trees.
I feel the air.
I smell the fumes.
There is never gonna be something like this again.
Dip your fingers in the river and it changes.
Maybe that's how it's meant to be.
Change is a violent entity.
It gets us all eventually.
The moon pops up again.
Hi.
