The arrogance of the moon

the moon is unmoving.
frozen and self-centered
in the atmosphere.
he’s proud of the fact
that he can be
steady among a chaos
of satellites
while meditating above clouds
and rubbing elbows with stars.

he’s stoic.
watching egoic people
who are steady
impressed with excesses,
like high definition drones
that give us a limited view of the sky,
like phones that run on connections
as stable as tightropes.

can you hear the moon
laughing at us?

to him, we are
billions of tiny dots
sleepwalking in front
of tinier screens.
even our dreams
only take us as far
as a data plan.

who is this man
that we allow to spy on us
like the government?

the all-seeing eye,
peeking through keyholes,
and weaving unwanted light
through windows.

he’s wide awake
in the early morning
as we lose our minds
with moonshine.


better yet, look around you:
who thinks they are special?
who among you doesn’t know
how small you are?
who knows someone
who thinks they can trip the tides?

who here would love
to hear the conversation
between the sun and the moon
when he decides to eclipse her?

just like a man:
arrogant and privileged,
stealing a woman’s