Like A Big Pizza Pie
“They’ve found water on the moon,” Bernie says. We’re out on the patio behind our house on Mesquite Road. It’s night, the moon is shining, Bernie’s smoking a cigarette even though he’s trying to quit and I’m enjoying the smell of the smoke, whenever the breeze blows some my way. “See what this means?”
Water on the moon? I’m no expert when it comes to color, Bernie says, but water is usually blue. I gaze up at the moon, see no blue, just a big shining white ball.
He taps off some ash and gazes up at the moon, too. We gaze up together.
“It means that one day we’ll be living up there,” he says. “For absolute sure.”
Whoa. I like it right here on Mesquite Road. A cloud drifts over, covering the moon. I feel uneasy.
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