Moon Shines at Night

A midnight summer's rain fills the small space between rooftops
tugs the day time running lights into arching gradients
that pull into shifting pixels onto the cobblestone below
rested against the corragated brick wall with my knees to my chin in Fan Tan Alley
teardrops of light and rain glimmer a radiance between the studs of my belt and the patches along the bottom of my black hoodie where peaks a pair of soft pink panties
light and heavy aromas of oysters and rack of lamb drift from an open kitchen door
light as the back of my hand against a spotlight where I breed shadowy puppets upon darkened window panes
heavy as the gray smoke that collects in my hood skews the nuance of glow across my face lifting from the cherry that spirals about on point of a stout black cigar which is the object of my current absent minded vanity and affection

you are a mother as a moon shines at night
though we have only just met you teach me that safe places
do not only exist outside of the rain and foul weather
you are a mother as seeds bend towards light
young enough to not give a fuck / old enough to know better
though we have only just met you teach me that sometimes dry lands crack and bleed the skin that floods are necessary to float together pieces meant to build a wet and safer kind of shelter

when you return from the restaurant washroom you reach into your left breast pocket retrieve a small white box and offer me another cigar
these are a warm chocolate brown long slender and remind me of old burmese women and board games I've never played
you comment on the black and white photography / the sheen of the steel faucets / a religious tract you glanced at in the top of the waste basket as you made your exit
distant yet appretiative

in your absense
I will dream of lips against the reed of a woodwind
eyes of storms where the palm trees are steady
places inside myself where there is no such thing as sin
and the shelters you taught me to build in the dry heat of chaos
they will be the strongest because I know that there is a time for war and that when that day comes I will be victorious
for I am learned and ready

now in my world of fine tobaccos and better conversations
amongst the marijuana we smoked in alleys
white flags will never mean surrender for white is the absense of color
white is the rain in the light of the flash of a camera white is the color of purity
for white is the color of nothing gone asunder
and though you are drabbed in white linen aside the oceans surface absorbing the moons light that falls only upon the few beautiful women I feel fine enough to call mother
and the space above your head is constantly swarming with doves white as light from which all color we stole
in my absense please remember that it is the heart of the black birds that are waiting for you to fill them with your soul