The Little Girl and Jack the Moon Man

The Little Girl and Jack the Moon Man

The little girl was running down the street.
A white pinafore and patent leather shoes in the sunlight.
She was very much afraid.
Twisted green, she shouted, twisted green.
Jack the Moon Man sat at his piano frosted in white flour.
The restaurant chattered patriotically.
Iraq was sand and blood and oil and a ragtag God.
Who is counting the children?
Who is caring?
Jack the Moon Man had made his millions.
He told his story from the other side of the fence.
His horse farm glittered with luscious green grass.
His daughter was happy in Sausalito.
His son was happy climbing mountains in Europe.
A Vietnamese woman groomed his moustache.
She pledged her allegiance to the various states of growing old.
She was afraid.
She had lost her tongue during that other war.


Bobby Byrd
Posted over on Newspaper Tree