like a bell through the night

the moon is
a fat ass
hanging out
the window
of a ’76
chevy monza
hatchback
fleetwood mac
blaring on
the 8-track
over my head
& ready &
raring for
rhiannon
& my mother
yanking me
back to
my seat
yelling
whatcha
think you
doing fool
& the girls
on their
banana seats
staring at
my pimply
cheeks &
that’s why
I never
had any
dates in
middle school
but I’m not
complaining
because fresh
air is good
for the soul