I did, I don’t, I do—
the moon wore boots and walked my roof,
I fed it spoons of honeyed proof,
then lost the taste between my teeth.
I did, I don’t, I do—
the river reversed, carried dawn upstream,
I sang it awake from a jellybean dream,
then forgot the tune in a sardine can.
I do, I don’t, I did—
the clock struck thirteen, laughed, and hid,
I kissed its hands, they tasted like squid,
now I keep the seconds in a jam-jar lid.