To the Moon

Honestly, I care
Bout as much
As my hair,

Which is plenty.
But not the same
As twenty,

When it was black
And blue.
Dangling curly cue.

From here
On out,
I’ll walkabout

With salt
And pepper,
A shaking leper.

But make the best
Of this litmus test.
With last request-

Head held high,
Nose to the sky,
Ear flaps back,

Hear low life cracks.
Keep walking on.
Make up a song.

A stinging little tune
To rub in the wound,
Then send to the moon.


3/15/21