rising; rare tide
---jerry

that moon could have come up anywhere. over any hill, over any row of trees, atop any building, between any stars.
he could have been sitting just about anywhere. on a curb near pike street market in seattle, his backyard, the airport in anaheim, on a pair of cold steel train tracks on a forgotten trestle.
but like a paler, colder version of prometheus's fire, there it was, stuck in the sky; a decoration left over from halloween and here it was christmastime.
it's a moon like that that makes him glad they're rare. moons so they mean something. moving somethings somewhere. yet he defied the somethings existance, so there was never any movement to him.
she sat next to him and cautiously, silently defied his existance.
they sat on the edge of a midnight sea, a quiet tide in the foreground.
the moon looked down expressionless.
somewhere in the ocean, a shark circled.
-jerry
11-28-02
-------
Dam it I’m jealous

-------
m.e. too!
-------
jealous?
-------
right. what is there to be jealous of?
-------
Jer - I like your description here, and the ending ties it together nicely. Well done. ~dragonfly~