Moonlight on the Monon

(The Monon is a walking/jogging trail.)

It's only 5:00
but a full moon hovers near the treetops,
as plump and pouty, as coy and coquettish
as a 14-year-old girl waiting to be asked to dance

On the Monon, toothy second wives
with cell phones stuck to their heads
walk overbred, undertrained dogs,
and push first-borns in megastrollers
that cost more than my first car

gal pals pseudo-jog in a loping, knock-kneed gait,
the better to shmooz

overworked junior execs run for their lives,
their fists clenched, their faces frozen
in condescending, unforgiving grimaces

The only smilers
are a few fellow middle-agers
strolling just fast enough to ease the conscience,
just slow enough to appreciate
the bite in the air,
the sun streaming through the last of the tulip tree leaves
and the glory of that fat, sexy moon croon june spoon.

Forgive us if we're a little smug.
We've learned what's important.
And the answer is, not much.