To a Treasured Friend

I suspect that you are seeing a real world.
But who can count or account for such worlds?
Much of what we say needs some editing
to meet the rigors you and I imagine for ourselves.
We are not as cohesive as we once imagined,
exploding across the universe in bits of this and that,
peppers, salt, nutmeg and sugared spices
baffling bits of life approaching such horizons.
We are full of songs and dances of bewilderment,
tripping through news, lessons and steps to learn,
the world of bunches of us: you, me, she and him,
traipsing across the sky, ignoring love, learning to fly
some of us whistling, but me, with strummy voice,
along for the ride, singing hallelujah to the moon.
I sometimes sit in the dark and share my thoughts
echoing back and forth from here to the moon to you.