They sat outside our dorm singing the Moon Song. It was his favorite. Even she knew it. He sang, “Yadda yadda goo goo.” She followed, “Doodoo doodoo wah wah.”
This would go on and on.
I imagine them singing the Moon Song for decades even after a long, hard day of fighting and making up. When they grew too old to vocalize, I imagine them singing it to each other in their hearts.
Indeed, I hope so.
But we didn’t have air conditioning. My window was open. This was exam week. And that’s my lame excuse for shouting, “Shut up!”.
Frank Hubeny spends his time between Miami Beach and Northbrook, Illinois. He has appeared in The Lyric, Snakeskin and Ancient Paths Literary Magazine. He regularly posts poetry, short fiction and photography to https://frankhubeny.blog.