If you walk down a summer street,
believe me when I say it—
an old upright you just might meet,
inviting you to play it.

Such a thing happened to me,
before the sun was sinking.
My camera lens did ALSO see—
which proves I wasn’t drinking.

And then this apparition caught
mine and the camera’s eyes.
It showed some flowers grouped like stars—
a constellation prize!

Just like when you cross your eyes,
and then they won’t uncross,
I seem to be stuck in a rhyme—
prose is not always boss.

So welcome to the Open Thread.
If you’re not dead or numb,
tell us what is shaking
in your day and days to come.

And now that Summer time is here,
and since I am not lying,
If you have had two many beer——
then you are JUST NOT TRYING.

—Moon

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