October 11, 2006

• Moon

  There's a moment before the moon rises that's cold and still. I'm on the shore of the lake, on some steps that lead to a beach. I'm trying to figure out what neighborhood is causing the halo of light over the hills on the far shore. It turns out it'll be the moon, but I'm thinking Bellevue.

  There are some docks here, for those little tiny sailboats the parks department rents out. Some teenagers, two shes and a he, are out on the end of it, are talking about stuff. Stuff of importance to teenagers. The girls seem to speak non-stop, about self-absorbed things. Which is fine. But even they, from time to time, stop to look at the very top of the moon peeking over the hills, the potent cold stillness reaching through to their insides.

  It's really funny when the boy says he was in LA recently, and went to a party at Drew Barrymore's house. Girl: "Who's that?" Ouch! I laugh and they hear me. How could they not have noticed me before? Self-absorbed, perhaps. The boy goes back to describing why Drew Barrymore should impress them.

  Their noise joins the traffic on the road behind me. I'm absorbed in the moon. It's almost all the way up. A single cedar tree is sillhouetted. Then just the top of the tree. Then the tree vanishes into darkness. There's a low, faint fog. The moon is pale and orange and leaves a streak across the lake.

  The fog forms a halo most of the way around it. A halo in the shape of an afro. The man in the moon has an afro. Afro-moon from the '70s. Gimme some skin, white guy with an afro!

  I'm laughing again. Teen boy: "What's your PROBLEM?"

  • 2:49 am
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