have you ever tried to spend the stars CLAIRE VANDERLAAN
i. i do not allow myself to think too much of the fact that she is the moon, sitting here with me. regardless of her celestial existence, she is a lady first and foremost, so i allow her to swill red wine and recline on the white linen couch. she is not the kind to make a mess, although she does always leave a fine glitter behind. it coats my palms when i try to swipe it away. i cannot afford cleaners. the glitter stays. ii. she is always cold. it makes her miss the sun, her torrid affair, but that was when she was young and still lovely, fresh, unspeckled. her marriage to the sea is so new that it stings at my skin when she talks about it. i am not here to make any judgments. i would regret it severely if i did. she makes sure that i know this. iii. the sea is an alcoholic, no longer as beautiful as the moon remembers. she wonders why her wife cannot remain as pristine as she does, how she allows acid and humanity into the bite of her waves. i am paid to keep my mouth shut, so i do not tell her what is coming for her. she will know soon enough. iv. she pays me in the stars, the most splendid and useless currency. i devote an entire desk drawer to their light, whisper that i am sorry when i have to shut them in. they have so much faith in her. they do not know what she does when she plucks them from the sky. they think that she will take them to a better place. i do my best to remember which is the drawer where i store the stars and which is the drawer where i store the staples. i am not perfect. v. the moon is perfect. she spouts about the claustrophobia of grocery stores 16 | Montage
