Moon Walks

The foot of my sandal tries to skip over 

every crack in childish penance.

Nature that survives despite urban reconstruction 

of her natural beauty always inspires

everyone and anyone on a walk through 

their own neighborhood. 

Their own plot.

The moon is my own partner tonight.

The sexiest yet 

to avoid ever holding my hand.

Tonight I write 

like a man taking the city night 

for his own. 

Instead of the girl I am inside 

this aging body. 

Still…

I feel too young to say goodbye 

to so much. 

Only part of my face shows 

as I look out from the backseat of 

some Oldsmobile, trying to grin 

despite it all. 

If I love winter mornings so much 

why am I so obsessed with every inch 

of living?