See the Moon?

You say: "I never want to seem absurd"

when you're calling me at night

to ask if I can see the moon.

You're the great last hope

half-spent in the after burn

of useless little thoughts

caught inside your delicate throat.

You say: "I never want to let it out."

You're a tropicasualty

of a long-distance favor, oh no!

"Think of me when you can"

I wrote it on a bathroom wall

years and years ago

when we could tolerate it all.