Radiating black masses
over black, purple bleak
skies,
the moon on their backs
undefined
they danced,
oddly shaped
seemingly uncontrolled
I watched ignored,
Raised a bottle to my lips
sipping,
I squinted at them
hard,
What did they want?
what wisdom? Grief? Praise?
the moon
compassionate
a solemn face,
failing to comprehend,
and the dancing shapes
and the hapless man,
are
no
better
for
it.
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