Two Moons

.Look, she says. Look. There are two moons tonight. Do you think that means anything?

Like end times, you mean?

I don’t know, she says. It can’t be good.

We move closer. There they are above the rooftops, one higher and to the right of the other.

Someone in the ranch-style house switches the porch light on and joins us.

My ex-wife phoned, he says. She saw it too. She’s bit of a sky watcher.

So we stand there out the front as one then the other veer off in a north-easterly direction, silent and glowing as moons.

Shuddering Flanks

 

There’s something about a cold, starlit night that gets me going: the glitter of the galaxies, the pixie dust of the Milky Way, the motherly eye of the moon, the peace, a full stomach. I drift to the back of the yard past the reach of the kitchen light and stand by the lemon tree — I’m told it’s always good to do it there. My flanks begin to shudder as I unzip and I piss like a stallion, throw my head back and neigh.