Directionless Moon

The almost full moon positioned itself immediately above me.

No matter which direction I turned and walked

It was there vertical and still

Poised.

They call this a ‘directionless moon’

And anyone one can get lost

By it.

Especially when it is completely peaked

And lit up full on bright

Like a cool blue sun.

You need to have a very discerning eye

To catch the slightest detail

Of it’s waxing or waning

To even account for direction.

Expert trackers

Have been lost

In the wilderness

To the dark and cold

Of a night like this.

They would have to set up camp

And wait until morning

To continue

When they recomposed.

Ships and their captains

Have forgone their bearings

And run aground in even familiar waters

To such a treacherous and deceitful moon.

Keen and quick was the pilot

Tenored with experience

That could pull tricks from his sleeve

And guide the ship safely

Through a ‘directionless’ night.

Tonight

I am stumbling in it’s radiance

On deer runs with my dogs

Who are running independently

Far distances ahead.

I don’t see him at first.

I hear him.

I hear the sounds of a guitar just beyond

As I carefully traverse

Down the loose glimmering rocks of a ravine

That settles at the foot

Of pondlike frozen black backwater

From the Delaware River

Close by.

I see him sitting on a fallen tree stump

Strumming the instrument.

It is too late

And I move closer.

I can smell him.

I catch a whiff of charcoal and white hot ash.

I can actually see him glowing

His ebony torso embedded with

Orange and red embers.

Small fires spark and burn out

On different places on his body

Continuously

Making soft

Igniting sounds

Here and there.

He pays no attention to this detail

Like this is totally normal and natural

As if he were appearing before me

In jeans and a tee shirt.

A cigarette hangs out of his mouth

As he plays masterfully

On the black guitar

That looks...

Well...it looks just like mine.

He inhales deeply as

He looks up and says

“Good Evening”

And stops playing

Just like that.

“Do you like my playing?”

He asks

Exhaling clouds of moonlit smoke.

“It’s brilliant”

I say.

His eyes are small furnaces

Undiscernable from the orange of his cigarette.

I can hear the dogs running a way ahead.

“Do you play?”

He asked

Inhaling again.

“No. I just picked up a guitar that looks remarkably like the one that you’re playing. I want

to teach myself how to play it...but I really don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Really?”

“Interesting”

“I could teach you some”

He said as a spark flew from his left cheek

Landing in the damp soil

A few feet away.

It sizzled and went out.

He watched it do so

Exhaling the cigarette again.

“I don’t know.”

I said.

“It always seems like I’m running into people like you out here...no offense...but it’s the Boogie man, or you, the Devil, or some other unsavory no good dangerous character.”

“Why can’t I run into Ghandi asking me if I want to learn how to play the fucking guitar?”

“Why can’t I run into Krishna or Jesus or Martin Luther King or God himself?”

“I’m sorry. You are a very good guitar player but I don’t quite see myself aspiring towards

that sort of commitment. You should have tried me like twenty years ago. I probably would have jumped at the opportunity then.”

His breath came out of him

In great waves of moonstruck steam clouds.

He drew on his cigarette with another great pull and pondered.

He gave an exhorbitant exhale for quite a few moments

Effortlessly

And stared at me.

“I mean do you guys get together and figure out ways to lure me back in?”

“I mean...why don’t I see the Mother Mary out here asking me if I want to learn to play

something on the guitar?”

I could see him starting to crack a smile.

“It was just Christmas for God’s sake...”

He gave me a dirty look squinting his eyes.

“I’m gonna be strong and learn how to play that bastard on my own. I probably won’t be

any good, but that’s the only reason I bought the damn thing.”

His smile turned into a laugh.

His sniggering acted like a flue

Causing the coals of his body to light even brighter

In the full crown of moonlight

Pouring down through the trees

Overhead.

He took another drag

On his cigarette

And with bravado

Went into some heavy shit on the guitar

Which I know

That I will never...

Ever

Be able to do.

I listened for another minute

To the entrancing witchcraft

That poured forth from the black instrument.

I slowly started walking

And left him there

Sitting on an icey stump

By a pool of muddy frozen water

As his music played

And he crackled chimney like laughter

To himself...

Melting the snow around him.

I left him...

Puzzled myself...

Looking around...

Looking up at the silent

‘Directionless Moon’

Realizing

That I was

Probably lost

Without any bearings...

Wondering

Where my dogs were now.

Wondering if I missed

An opportunity.