The shadow of the moon
Is an avalanche of fire
Like hands coming up from the sea.
I can talk to you of flying
Sidekicks in the summer trees, a head
Stand in the evening rain.
When sadness is neither frivolous
Nor misplaced, when it is palpable.
Can laughter make the trees
Turn white, said the moon.
It can, said the sea.
naïve haircuts 