Moving By Moonlight
todd michael cox
How many people in that graveyard are dead?
All of them, she said.
And do you ever wonder if the grave worms tickle?
Now, take a graveyard and turn it upside down. You get a place like this.
I met this girl in the Fall of a year in which I found myself lost and didn't know what to do.
She took my hand and looked me right in the eye. She said:
It's easy to believe it won't get better than this. So we wandered the world, moving by moonlight, sleeping in courtyards graveyards ditches and barns, throwing bones to the dogs and nickels to the bums.
We read headstones, laughed at the names, met Mary the Screamer making charcoal rubbings. Caught trains headed west and jumped into rivers and lakes, built fires in old houses and dreamt of wine and steaks.
And when we found our final destination and she let go of my hand I thought:
If the grave worms don't tickle the silence will surely drive me mad. And how many people in that graveyard are dead?
Todd Michael Cox is a writer from the schizophrenic state of Wisconsin. When he's not writing he's out in a swamp or forest looking for reptiles and amphibians, or possibly in his basement making what he calls music. He's also responsible for the noise-and-spoken-word project, Ripe For Shaking, found only at http://www. myspace. com/ripeforshaking Contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org