Alaska’s moon is a headlight from heaven tonight. All the stars arranged perfectly, distributed evenly across the sky. One of those nights, chill winter creeping up your spine for the first time. Diluting summer memories, a moment alive; you can touch someone and feel like you’re really holding on, you talk and it sounds like something is being said.

Our plastic masks removed, we can escape these awkward shells and drift endlessly over the icy ocean waves. Our secret names revealed, we talk without tongues in words unstrained by mental filters. This is where we should be forever.

But so much time is wasted, alone under this moon, the door to all our dreams.  I am unable to make the astral step myself.

Nothing feels real but the memories, and the knowledge of another day wasted.

I stare at the moon, hoping you’re watching it too. I try to reach you, casting homing thoughts into the cold air. I’m hoping you’ll meet me halfway, your empty gaze colliding with mine, somewhere between us, underneath the moon.

© Robert Emmett McWhorter

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