Commuting To Jupiter

the Moon looked lonely to the girl, and shy
revealing as it did just a sliver of itself
planes and clouds drifted by with destinations in mind
stars making shows of themselves, and the Moon
the Moon looked on sadly the way a streetlight does
or a marble head
its neck too set to turn away

why don’t you and the Sun not hang out more?
the girl asked up at him
seems you only meet for eclipses
he’s got his hat on but nowhere to go
why not take him to Aurora Borealis
catch the late show

the girl liked space- its infiniteness
the way it transported dreams

I’m going to a party and can bring a guest
come down from the heavens and accompany me
was the girl’s request
there’s people there would love to see you
you might meet yourself a nice little planet
and I believe there’s food
Moon, you look lonely, you sure look lonely to me

The girl’s mother, to her credit, took in her stride
the moon being her daughter’s chosen party guest
though she did have to put
the back seats down on her Xsara
and the Moon
the Moon felt good, to be going somewhere
he wore a tie and grinned at dogs and bus queues
and cyclists as they zipped by

At the party, streamers hung like comets from doorframes
and the way the lights were arranged over the fireplace
reminded the Moon of his friend The Plough
Satellites gravitated towards the kitchen
the way satellites gravitate towards kitchens at parties
and the girl, immeasurably proud
to have the Moon as her guest, skipped on air, weightless

the other children had brought friends of their own-
the Serengeti, the Black Sea, the Ozone layer
Uluru, Machu Picchu
it was a big house, you understand-
though it still only had one loo

none of these guests were the Moon though
and the children flocked to him and he carried them
on his shoulders and he illuminated the garden
as evening descended and he ate jelly
and he played musical chairs and he laughed
he laughed endlessly

on the way home the girl held his hand
and as the car turned down lit streets
their faces were ran amber black amber black
like wasps on a conveyor belt
the Moon holding with wonder
in his other hand a party bag containing balloons
and a plastic frog and a slice of cake
with some lettering iced in red

on her mother’s steps, at bedtime
the girl kissed the Moon wide of his mouth
and he blushed pink in small craters
and returned to the sky with a smile

Moon, the girl whispered
goodnight, until next fading light

she opened the door
and she stepped inside

©Copyright 2018 Ash Dickinson