bluegreyplateau

It is a still-life silver evening,
Coffee on the moon.
As back in Earth, love rolled on,
To a thin, insipid tune.

Overhead was a breathing sky,
Who shook with songsandstars;
As amongst the chaos sang a lamenter:
A dim red planet, called Mars.

Back in Earth, you stood faceless,
Bathing in rush and red;
But don't you know, dearest freckles
Beneath all that ego, you, indeed, are dead.

And the waitress took my coffee away.
Yes, closing time was nigh.
As I sat there in a shroud of smoke---
I was floating in the sky.
Again, she told me, "it's time to go,
As the cigarettes have been fired."
I asked her for
just one
last
toke,

But the ashtrays had retired.