evening, fibucetera 19, 40 a.b. ....

memo: to the moon

hi.  good to see you again, full of yourself and making the rounds.  guess you finally got over that frigid little horizon i saw you sadly leaving last month, huh?  that would explain the return of color to your face.

gee, how i envy you your ability to rise above all things....

but then, seems like i always have looked up to you for guidance and direction.

and yet... truth be told... i've been worried about you lately.  no, you don't seem to have waxed any fatter than i remember, or to be any less sharp than you were in those days when people followed your every move. and you never had any hair to begin with.  it's just that... well....

you just don't seem to be inspiring the same madness that you used to.

wanna talk about it?

it's ok - you're among friends here.


ok... i respect your right to be silent. but i hope that if you ever do decide to speak to the hearts of men again, mine will be among the first you telephone.  i believe i sent you its email address too, so feel free to use that instead.

i'm nothing if not flexible when it comes to my favorite satellite.

and i just want you to know... i miss the long conversations we used to have.  you were always there for me - even after i failed the wild bounding portion of my werewolf exam for the third and final time - and i treasure that.  i really do.  and i hope you do as well.

remember the time i stayed up with you all night because some clod from america had planted his footprint on your face?  enough said.

i don't know why we ever drifted apart.  but we did, didn't we?  i started going to bed early, you went more and more often into total eclipse.  things changed.  that doesn't mean i ever stopped caring.  just because i stopped staring at you through a telescope doesn't mean that i ever ceased reading your rising and setting times in the paper.

even though i admit i've been a bit jealous that celestial objects that are billions of yours old somehow manage to retain a hold on the minds of young girls while the rest of us mere mortals seem to get chucked aside at 30 or 50....

anyway... i don't mean to ramble.  i know how much you hate it when things seem to go on and on without rhyme or reason or so much as a hint of a predictable trajectory, given the number of times you were smacked by erratic meteorites in your youth....  it's simply hard for me to ask you pointblank -

"are you alright?"

i mean, what happened to the moon i used to know, huh?  what happened to the wild and crazy rock that had us all believing it was made of green cheese and harbored moonmen?  what caused the brightest orb in my night sky to disillusion nasa and all the rest of us by turning out to be just one more dusty old planet wannabe when you really had us by the scruff of the imagination and we worshipped you as a god or goddess?  you were way ahead of your time with that sexual ambiguity thing you had going there, you know.  however did you allow those two undeserving upstarts, mars and viagra, to steal your crown?

ok, ok... you don't owe me any explanations.  i'm just happy you continue to shine down on my sorry hide at all.  still, i wouldn't be a real friend if i didn't tell you that i'm concerned.

and worried.

and more than a little sad....

so.  what do you say we forget about all those tidal responsibilities of yours for one night and run naked together across the sky?  we can play tag with the shooting stars and hide and seek with the milky way.  and when old sol comes along at dawn to see what the hell all the commotion is about, we can plead innocent by reason of spontaneity.  what do you say?  huh?  for old time's sake?

is that your final answer?


but i guess it's getting late, huh?  guess it's about time we both slipped below the tree line and started acting our age.

good seeing ya again.

take care.

pat your dark side on the back for me once or twice, ok?

and if you ever see that man they say is in you, tell dad i said hello.....