Who stole my moon?
I left it by the rocking chair on the patio
Now it’s gone
It was my own, small moon
I used to hug its cool, spherical body
I used to pet it like it was some fat chinchilla
Who stole my moon?
I have a lot of speeding tickets
And not a lot of friends
My moon was the one who listened to me
When I was up at night, feeling bitter
I guess I will put up signs
Missing: Personal Moon
With a photo and a reward
What would I give to have that moon back?
Five hundred dollars, at least
Oh you, whoever stole my moon
Do you appreciate its contours?
Can you smell me on it?
It never smelled of itself
Only of my cologne.
If you, you who stole my moon
If you like my moon maybe you will like me too
Or maybe you will like my smell at least
I could give you five hundred dollars
Or we could go on a date
Imagine us snuggling in bed afterwards
Both of us spooning the moon
Do you like my smell?
Do you like smelling my moon?
It could never be fully yours—always mine
But we’d share it
We’d take it out to see eclipses
Which means we’d be seeing them together
Now that I think about it, I’d empty my bank account
To get that moon back
Except I have to set aside some money for the speeding tickets
So I don’t go to jail
Where they don’t allow moons at all.
