The city infected the country.
The city controlled continuity.
The city burned my morality.
So one day, I moved to the moon.
Unpacked, I tasted the air,
bottomless gravity and white starlight.
Perched on a lawn chair I became
President and self-made Ambassador
of Moon, this Moon, my Moon,
to assist the tourists and guard Earth from afar.
I watched Phantom Jets fight pilots for control,
fighting for the flight life cockpit control.
I watched birds glide, dive, dissolve
alive in stride with the heaving wind.
The city simply posed nude in the moonlight,
and I sketched its outline in gouda.