How could the moon know
where to find me
after all these miles,
all these years far away?
How could it follow my trail,
when I back tracked so often,
when my story changed
like those address labels,
all those notices trying
to get what I owe?
Intentions and motives,
goals and loves and plans,
all the mayhem lived out
drizzled over precious days.
How could it know
I would stand so still
on a night so cold?
That I would stop lying
just long enough so
my words could catch up
with the name that’s left.
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