In the Moonlight

In the moonlight
I am as ungrateful as a rich man’s child
angry at the sky
why don’t you tell me
I am beautiful
why have you left me

why the night has greeted me
with cold fingers
why can’t I remember
her voice

in Los Angeles
where the dogs
are whimpering
the night is neither winter
nor summer
you are not

if you are
at the tip
of the clouds
that shyly track the moon

tell me I am beautiful
tell me that
was all a dream
you were having
of the book you were reading

about a man
in a high castle
about a vantage point on the world
where the future was
something else