inside the beginning 1
the backside of the Sun is flat;
flat as a manhole cover.
not like the backside of the Moon
which is all rocks and dust as if my grandfather’s
buried there.
we can’t romance under the Sun.
we can’t bring back rocks from the Sun
as if that was something to be achieved
after the first landing on the Moon.
the Sun doesn’t have a river to croon about.
the Sun is always agitated.
it doesn’t have to be pleasant.
it’s not blue.
it’s over my house and over
Miami at the same time.
the Sun keeps its mouth shut
at the ticket booth of the drive-in.
it’s smart. it wants to see what’s playing
but it has no money, so..
it gets in for free.
it hides inside the trunk of my car
with a couple of stool pigeons
from the old country.
there’s a man in the Sun.
I guess today it’s me.
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