Vollmond

september's full moon came with a translation: "vollmond." the great dame felt her version, too. i remember one monday deciding to walk from 57th and broadway down, south, then east, towards home...to see if i could, i guess? to save $2.25? to wear my red shoes out? to think? i saw the moon move across the sky over the course of the 2 and a half hour walk . . . it attempted to fit into an array of scenarios: between buildings in union square, above a white truck towards delancey, poking the sky solo over the east river, and here, among bulbous luces over the pinkest bridge in the world ; it was less a guide than a mirror. i arrived home at 930. the moon was lost as i settled onto common ground. . .