cause they're all spies....

the moon has arms and legs tonight.arms and legs of swirling black cloud. it has a face that keeps morphing in and out of contemplation.into loftiness. far away ness...beauty so far away. jets interrupt with their red tale lights.

I had a glass of wine tonight. a glass of Black Opal Cabernet Merlot that my father gave me. my back still hurts. my body is still sorting out its complaint.

the air force base. the sounds of testing engines. and the moon. the moon turns into a static white ball...a stone...on black sand..

I dont want christmas to come. I want it to slow down. I want time to bake. I want a house full of people I really care about...and Peanuts on the television.

and phillip seymour hoffman...sitting in the corner..watching the madness ...and talking smack to his buddies..every now and then...giving me one glance of assurance.

reality:

Jets overhead. moon stares. lava lamps and disco balls to wrap...

I love all of you

Peace