gentleman caller

the man in the moon

followed me home,

bobbing up and down

behind the boxy tops of

concrete condos,

peek-a-booing from behind

the pointed eaves of houses.

it’s hard to keep my eyes

on the road when

his buttery-yellow

ochre creased face keeps

smiling down, beneficent,

radiating night kindness;

a perfect man,

who lights the way,

never burns or scorches,

but will move the tides for you;

he’s waivering in his ascent,

hanging half-way down

between stars and the edge of earth

in a maxfield parrish sky

still backlit by sinking sun

cobalt blue dripping down

to water-thinned blur

then a stack of juicy colors -orange, peach, lemon,

and pink, at the bottom,

holding it all up;

so dense a blue, the man in the moon

is having trouble standing up,

are squeezed lower and lower to the horizon.

the man in the moon

follows me home,

his face lit with that

contagious gentle grin;

i sing him a night aria,

he glows brighter;

i promise him an opera.

i think he winked.

—ryki zuckerman

Dear Josh

Dear Josh,

I couldn’t think of how to say this in person, so I’m writing you this letter. I don’t think it’s going to work between us. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a nice guy, but I need my space, and I think it’s unfair to you how much time I spend at work. I enjoyed our time together, and I mean that, really I do, but I think we’re just not meant to be. You’re going to have a beautiful life, and I hope in some way I can still be a part of it. Don’t get upset, trust me, it will be better this way. I just can’t be this close to someone, I need to be able to breathe freely.

Love,

Christ

—josh smith