Wednesday, January 7, 2015


Born under a cluttered moon

Craters everywhere

No organization as to size or shape

A small young one haphazardly

Splats across a sedate well-established crater

Willy-nilly and never the same way twice

They are piled atop one another

Like nobody's business, as Gran used to say

So it's not my fault you can't see the surface of my desk

Nor mine that I can't lay hands

On your most important key

Moonstruck, that's me

I wasn't born under one of the tidy moons

And there's nothing I can do about it

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