for a future square moon

at the landfill we go looking
for our glasses. a sea gull 
plays a harp & the heat melts 
all of our credit cards which is 
mostly a relief. have you ever tried
running in the rain & dodging 
each drop? this requires slow motion.
the rain washes all the trash clean & new.
we find a broken machine 
that used to make bottle caps &
a dilapidated frog. now, we each have
six or seven fingers. more to write poetry with.
instead of course i'm using them
to hold onto a balloon dinosaur.
it's giant & if i let go the appatosaurus 
will go extinct again. in the landfil 
we find plastic bones. the skeletons 
of wanderers before us. a new direction 
sprouts on our compasses & we follow it 
until the world ends & we hit a wall. 
touching the barrier. the sensation of static
& the taste of mint. the wall 
wants to know what we imagine 
on the otherside. i remember 
it is best to not think in times like this 
or god will hear you & yank your wants away.
once, i was close to catching
a golden bee but i thought to deeply about it 
& the bee dispersed into a poof of glitter.
at the landfill, we find
several dying bees & nurse them back to health.
they pollinate us & next thing we know
we are finding plums & peaches 
& apricots in our hair. we eat fruit
until we're sick & dizzy with sugar.
laying, face up towards a fizzling sky
we talk about glass bottle sodas 
& wishing to never leave the landfil.
we could be great junk people,
living in other people's pasts.
a pair of opera glasses we find 
helps us inspect the shape of the moon.
it's become less & less round
in the last few weeks. we fear
it might turn square. what will that mean 
for the ocean? the angles are changing.
the angels are buried 
in banana peels. all the cores of apples
shed their seeds like glossy brown tears.
apple trees grown but not with any fruit
because the bees have moved on.
now every bee is a musician.
tiny saxphones. tiny drumsets. 
all the animals have aspirations.
i want to be a hermit in a broken machine.
the wolves out here want to be gods.
many of my friends 
want to be professors. a gnat
dreams of publishing the next great american novel.
the landfil snaps back
to just a waste basket. we take out the trash
& watch it out the window
as it's plucked from the curb.
a child off to school. a traveler
stepping onto a greyhound.