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Feel the draw of the moon.  I must be out.  These teeth he said running the 
tip of his tongue from one incisor across to the other these teeth are 
sensitized.  I dress in black and must be out cruising. 
He remembers a winter night on Boston Common.  The snow ice crackled as he 
walked his girlfriend to a park bench next to the Frog Pond.  Old snow 
speckled with soot lined the cement crater.  The icy sidewalks picked up the 
gray moonlight.  Nowhere they can go inside to smooch and fondle.  They had to 
be out shivering and buried in overcoats.  A hand in under the  
sweater and down into her pants.  It was cold and hard to warm up Nancy. 
The Big Sur moon seen from the casita at the edge of the cliff.  The line of 
light on the corrugated water.  Stand on the cabin deck to look over and down. 
Waves smashing.  Forces slower than one lifetime erode the person.  Always 
here.  The surf swirls through a natural bridge at the base of a cliff.  The 
arch in the moonlight. 

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