that moon.

the first times i crossed the grass into the road, past the road and onto the sidewalk leading to his place, i couldn't help but notice the moon.

it was shining. it was watching me.

i crossed the grass in front of the steps that led to the door and went in quickly, quietly. that moon was watching and it disapproved--its cheese face pale and watery like egg whites. the moon, one big eye, staring at me. but once i was inside the moon couldn't see. it couldn't hear us.

i've loved the moon, but lately i'm not so sure. sometimes one doesn't want to be looked at.

that moon. the name cynthia means moon goddess. i am a moon goddess when... how does that song go... when i'm on my knees. what does the name holly mean anyway? it's just a tree. i'm the entire moon. if it wasn't for me reflecting sunlight, he wouldn't even see her in the dark.

last night, as i crossed the grass, the sidewalks and road, i looked at the moon. "i didn't do anything," i told it. for a moment i thought i saw it flicker.

when i got to my room, i slept like the dead.