The Moon is a Short Fat White Guy

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I watch white guys tell jokes about things they don’t know
And see black guys with pale eyes cry.
A woman with cat eyes and olive skin curses the moon
For illuminating the darkness that keeps her safe.
Short man smokes on the dock
Watches that moon, curses his past.
So complicated are the limits we set for ourselves.
Everything goes vertical and
I’m left with a fat man playin’ a jazzy tune
Within the cogs and wheels of my (breath) consciousness.
Absent is the wind. Present is the moon.
The truth remains to be seen.





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