A lunatic in a Tucson Walmart
placed a Ben & Jerry’s pint
of “Oat of this Swirled”
into his shopping cart
& unsolicited, he began telling me
how innocently it started,
his becoming a lunatic
one night in Bisbee, AZ
by complimenting
the milking color
of the full moon’s lipstick
& the smell of her astral perfume.
Leaning closer, he whispered
that she flirted with him, too,
sweetly throat-singing his name
like Marianne Faithful
after years of smoking heroin,
how he was suddenly thunderstruck
& despite the cold of the night
he ripped off his clothes
wanting to be as naked as she is stark.
I tried to change the subject,
joked that I had spent more
than a few drunken nights
in Bisbee’s St. Elmo’s Bar
hoping he would walk away
but he spoke louder, seemingly
filled with the Lunatic Spirit,
“She shed her atmosphere
& extinguished her molten core
many billions of years ago
so that we humans might live.”
“She’s really something, alright.”
I said, certain I would not to buy
my ice cream at a Walmart again,
& as I turned to leave, he shouted,
“The moon will be full in three days.
Bring an extra set of clothes.”
