The moon on my face, your breath at my back.

Always the first to push off from the light
The fastest car, the quickest start
I see them in my rear-view.

I see you
Behind me.

so what is there to rush off to?
what is so important
that I have to be the first one
every time?

why do I have to make sure you are behind me?
why do I have to go first?

must get there.
what is so important?

the moon hangs heavy in the sky tonight
she hangs low
so low
a half moon, like a milky breast
so big, grazing the horizon
tempting, teasing, calling my attention.

against my better judgment
my eyes flick to her
the moon
the heavy, half bust in the sky
over and over again.

as the car pulses onward
every time faster than all of the
rest of you
i steal endless glances
of the moon
calling me to her.

urging me to go faster.

challenging me to get to her first.

instead of watching the things
i should be watching
instead of keeping my eyes on
what is most important

i am making sure I rush onward
i have to get there fast
beat you
beat them
get my prize.

that is what I’m doing, right?
rushing forward because I have something to gain.

or maybe
the truth is that
i am fleeing what lies behind.

the moon is just my scapegoat.
an easy target.
a pleasant distraction.

either way.
I’m fast.