Shine On

I've tried.  Twice.  I haven't anything to tell you today that is any good.  Tonight is the Harvest Moon, and I typically have much to say about it, but today. . . you just don't want to know.  

"Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

There are moon songs, and many versions.  I have always posted one in the past.  None of them appeal to me today.  

I believe I have taken to despair.  I am susceptible to that big hollow void in the gut, that feeling that nothing will ever be good again.  

"'Cause I'm still in love with you. . . on this harvest moon,"

Don't take it literally.  I'm always in love. . . just often with some distant figure.  

"I ain't had no lovin' since January, February, June or July."

I ran into a fellow I have been friendly with for years on my Sunday walk.  We are not "friends," as we don't call one another or hang out.  We have just been friendly for a couple decades now, carousing in the same streets with the same crowds.  His stepfather was a Senator for the state, a prominent national figure whose name you would recognize, and his family had money.  He, however, was just a surfer hippie sort without big ambitions.  He has inherited an enviable set of casa apartments on the city golf course, and that is where I saw him on my walk.  

"Are you still single?" he asked me.  

"I should say so."

"It's nice, isn't it, without all the complications."

"Sure. It's peachy."  

Then we talked about his mango and avocado trees.  

That's it.  That's enough.  Shine on. . . harvest moon.