air bnb on the moon

tell me this is temporary.
that one day i will wake up 
to a bowl of fresh strawberries
& earth will be a head of hair.
i look out the portal 
to see the darkness as thick
as grease. stars speaking
their old languages. i used to want
the distance to dance like veils.
used to hold a telephone 
to every door. this is the nest
of the oldest hermit. a woman 
with five-thousand years 
of loneliness. no pictures 
on the walls just rings of salt
in every room. a cottage
the size of a thumb. i think maybe
i could purchase her life.
lead my own wandering into hers.
what do i have to do to get
my perminant vanishing?
i'm putting on my suite 
to walk in search of a dandelion
for conversation. on the moon 
sentences are written by distance.
could we orbit today then?
step forward through dust.
animal shadow. songs of dead species.
all the while, you sit on earth
& maybe drink water
or watch television or 
close your eyes for a second too long.
tell me i can have a beautiful life.
give me the oldest ocean 
dried for lack of fingers.
a flock of strings pluted
to make an orchestra. i have
one more day here before 
i have to become a girl again.
all the clocks say different years.
i take a bath in sunlight.
feel the cottage exhale. 
go out one last time to stare
at my own foot prints leading away
into the galaxy's purple-black.
help, i don't want to go back 
to my stained-glass life.