All the while, thunder thunder
thundering bass:
the moon overhead, she suggested
“write about me,”
but still, if I wanted to,
what really could two
wayfaring strangers do?
The moon disappeared
behind a rain cloud,
reappeared then disappeared
again, this time into the sea,
gone in a flash. You left
just as fast as you came.
Late at night: dazed,
alone, beast-like and
gnashing rent the night
while echoing bass
rings in my ears.