Play Along

O, the moon.
O, the stars
and all the heavens' light,
I said. You're being an ass,
she said and I gestured toward the sky,
flailing my arms, catching
moonlight on my polished teeth,
feeling the wind comb
the hair on my head.
I knit my brow to a fine line
and showed her how deep the creases
on either side of my mouth could be.
She stood steadfast,
impatience pooling from her formal gown.
Play along, I said,
but she wouldn't have it,
We are aristocratic debutantes
and we don't behave that way
in front of the queen.