Moon and I

For years I stayed awake for you my flame,
So we could play a game of hide and seek.
Behind the clouds I'd see you slowly peek,
And spotting you I'd laugh and cry your name.
And so each day you left and night you came.
Till once I saw a thing that made me weak;
I've since refused to play with you or speak,
Though now I know I've but myself to blame:
The pearly glow I thought was bold desire
To join your light together with my hell,
Was just your lover's, sun's, reflected lust;
I'd thus mistook the source of passion's fire.
I hope my letter finds you loved and well,
I've found in me a heart concealed with rust.

One-Man Restaurant

The nonstop clank and jingle of dishes,
some being washed, some breaking in the kitchen,
some exploding by chairs and drive us almost deaf.
The mathematics-professor-now-turned-chef,
burning the lamb, knocking over the kettle,
sweats buckets into today's special,
his nose wheezes like the whistle of a ref—
his soul longing to flee, possessed by the devil.
Turns waiter, serves, then talks to us of women, 
now sitting next to us, of being Christian,
of his youth in his homeland going fishing
for compliments from the ladies in his church,
and tears up and his lips quiver and says, Hell!
Gets up, hugs us, begs us to come back again.
We leave complaining to each other, but then
can't wait to go back there again and again.