THE WORDS TO BLUE MOON 

On this first chilled October night 
we brew coffee and take out the telescope.
You've cued a tape to begin when we're ready.
We slow dance, inhaling each other to Blue Moon.

Later, holding the warm cup in the cloudless night  
I remember a party in junior high.
Blue Moon played over and over 
on the phonograph in Francie's playroom 
but no one wanted to separate 
from  make-out locks to lift the needle.

I sat in a pile of snow-wet coats  
counting linoleum squares to keep from staring
and wished I had the nerve to walk home alone.
I didn't want to kiss any of those boys 
but wanted to dance close in the dark
and think the words to the song.

Now you've polar aligned the scope
and converted to Universal time.
You tell me to focus on the edge
of the crescent to see details of rills
and craters, streaked rays 
of lunar dust from meteors.

We've done this so many clear evenings,
I don't know why I'm stunned by the glow 
that surrounds your eye, the moonlight 
you gather on this small planet.