Lightshow

Moon is not the opposite of sun.
Sometimes hot, sometimes hidden,
sometimes welcome.
Sometimes not.
Both cast shadows.
Both are round.
Circles chasing circles
in a foxtrot we ignore,
looking ever down.
So what if one shines out
while one reflects?
Yellow glow or silver sin…
Both have dangers,
both have slept in
clouds of cover,
hiding lines of light
under branches, leaves,
even roof-tops. City streets
spit-slick with rain and gasoline
will spoon with him
as readily as her.
Fickle asphalt.
And I, too, am torn,
between the light that gives
and light that steals.
Soft silver
glow so
lovely.
Harsh yellow
eye, now, what
what
what at what and why
do you stare?

Leave me alone.
Moonlight on still, black water
is all that I can bear.