the same moon

pondering the role of the moon in our memory

the same moon

this is the very same moon, here, dashing
from cloud to cloud, which lays softly splintered
on the ocean, there; it is reflecting the very
same light into both of our eyes

no one basket can hold the separate moments,
the very same seconds, swept across each and
every
clock face, lived in each of our separate theaters
    (but I know, as certainly as
    this fingernail, chewed off my index finger)
    that many times, alone
    in crowds, or in bed,
    alone, we both laughed at
    the same instant, without
    a word

yes, I am quite sure now, that this is the very
same moon, and the light of our shared laughter
is still traveling, out there, somewhere, in space