The Man Behind the Moon

Just beyond the crescent moon There lies a man who makes my chair so slick I slide down on it as I type. He has it in for me, this man. He knows I'd prefer to be closer to the keyboard. He knows that even my own screen bothers me. He even knows I know about him. But that's okay, Because tonight I'm taking the carpet To the top of the chimney. (That's right.) Tonight I'm going to hitch a ride On an angry star, Screaming through the sky. I'll ride it upon arrival then-- Release! Hovering over Celestial golden glowing, upon My grandparent's laughter. The quiet sea. Swimming to the highest attic, now, To tell that old man, "Stop messing with me."