It’s Always the Moon

my imaginary lover is not a woman
but sometimes she appears to me

on a red slate rooftop               waves
of ivy splashing             up the walls

our footing precarious                        our hands
almost                   gag, i know              touching

her nails little blue              moon phases
it’s always the moon                            isn’t it

and when i ask her who
she fangirls        over hardest

she redbrick-blushes
and says                           you

and what beautiful
miyazaki movie bullshit is this

a white cat                        swirling like smoke
between the chimneystacks

i’m coming              of age
in summer                           so magic

so clear             she and my lover
are the same                     same sexy

librarian glasses                                 same shock
of black cherry hair             cut short for summer

same moon phase as when i was born
gibbous               balsamic             25° cancer

a late                    as my astrologer said
bloomer