moon garbage 

the moon pulls through
the kfc & i watch as she just orders
mashed potatoes & tosses the container 
in the parking lot for the rats.
you think there are 
coyotes everywhere. gods i wish
there were. i could use someone
to chase me into the underworld. 
instead we just get the neighborhood 
dogs who wish they were a pack.
on the right night they 
get together to pretend. one of them
is the leader & he gets really wild
with it. you tell me the coyotes 
would eat us & i explain that 
i have spent my life ready
to become part of something greater. 
i love cleaning up trash because 
it makes me feel less useless. 
the microplastics in my brain
tell me we should buy a boat
& ride it across the dark water 
until we reach the moon. there are
no supermarkets but there is 
a really sweet bodega which is
all anyone could ever need. 
a car loves there too & she is
the makeshift coyote. the divine 
is constant but always leaving. 
maybe i think that where i come from
cashing is holy. a language a lover.
you are always what is just out
of your reach. on tiktok late
at night someone dms me to ask,
“are you cleaning up after the moon?”
i lie & say, “of course not.”