Thursday, May 19, 2016

Sam the Moon Faced Boy

Sam the Moon Faced boy,
looked up to the night sky.
He stared at the Moon
and saw his own reflection,
he wondered who would
tease the Moon.

Sam the Moon Faced Boy,
walked home from school
every day along a very busy
street, where drivers and
passers-by would point and
stare as Sam walked by.

“Look at the size of that kid’s head,”
they’d shout and glare.
“I can see Neil Armstrong’s footprint,”
one or two would say.
“I didn’t know about the eclipse today,”
some old wise ass would snicker.

Sam the Moon Faced boy,
never let it get to him,
he never let the enormity of his
head, his extremely white skin,
the little tuft of hair on his north pole,
be a source of shame.

Sam the Moon Faced boy,
knew he was better, no matter how
their words would sting and stab.
He knew his eyes were the most
beautiful blue. His mother called
them her sea of tranquility.

Sam the Moon Faced boy
looked up at the night sky
and at his own reflection in
the window glass, superimposed
over the true Moon.
Only one had tears in their eyes.

“Can’t lie to the Moon,” said Sam
the Moon Faced boy as he wiped
his cheek with his sleeve.
“Can’t lie to the Moon,” he repeated
as the stars and the clouds moved
across the heavens.

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