Broken wheel and moonless sky

I had a nightmare the moon smoldered and spun, then fell out of orbit. Afterward, I wondered about the consequences, but I did not immediately feel adverse effects. I knew they would come, though, since I’d been told the moon holds sway over the oceans and such, and by extension, factors in as far as human behavior — what with us consisting of up to 60 percent water. That’s according to the US Geological Survey.

Recently I had a flat tire, so I had to join AAA on the spot. They charged me an extra fee because normally you have to wait a certain period before requesting assistance. But it was cheaper than calling a tow truck. I had initially pulled over at a gas station and attempted to fill my tire with air, but I couldn’t revive it: My dashboard said the pressure remained at 0.00 percent.

Thinking about both these things, I drew a connection. I surmised the message was my life was out of balance.

Here is this star

I think of this poem as splattered on the page, like a constellation. There is that brightest star, it represents your smile. A portal of scintillating light. Last night I had a dream that you were dressed in black playing a George Frideric Handel keyboard suite (No. 11 in D Minor) on the piano. I want to take you to coffee with your black-rimmed glasses on. They make your eyes look like the opposite of ivory rose. I want to see you laugh at a joke. I bought dark chocolate-covered espresso beans that came in an adorable tin. They remind me of you. Iridescent as a raven’s coat. You eyes are dense as marble, thick like the darkness when someone shuts off the lights in a room. Something about you exudes minor key tonality, a stirring inky onyx like the night sky. Impenetrable as the mystery of life.