October 18, 2005.
The Moon

You and me,
We’re like this.
It’s crazy, really,
But what can I do?

You, a scientist, a mathematician,
You’ll someday be on the moon.
Don’t forget to bring me back a piece,
A piece of you.
You, who hates books,
And I can’t understand what you have
Against my wishes.

I paint pictures with words.
I may not go to the moon,
But I’ll be close in my world.
I’ll write a book just for you,
This book of poems,
Where everything is about you
And what you do.
You’re so crazy,
But I love you anyway.