Traffic

I met the moon tonight. She peered at me from over an old building as I sat.

She watched me. Watched us all. There were lines of us. We waited. Slowly she rose, and smiled at me.

And only me.

Our conversation was short in order to avoid collision and cataclysm. I whispered, 'Good night.'

She said, 'I love you.'

My eyes return to the expanse of asphalt and taillights, and she changes from orange to gold in privacy. In a twinkle of starlight. No one sees it happen.

I sigh, and she smiles again, sympathetic. Her beams shine on my face while I wait, moving as slow as she arcs in the sky.

Stuck.