The moon doesn’t look like it spins
because we too are spinning
the river currents leave trace evidence
like footsteps: the wreckage left
by the collision of motion against motion.
Don’t ask me what I think. Ask yourself.
Or a squirrel. Or the wharf possum,
if you can find him. None of this this
will be here in a few currents. What
will take its place will be just as lovely,
just as confused and badly in need of a haircut
and just as dizzy from the moon.