What you do with your moonrocks is your business

What you do with your moonrocks is your business.
you sleep on a carousel with an umbrella billowing
in your dream teeth, clutched by a storm as haunted
as a stone pony made of wood… 
painted by a blind man
in a waiting room
with his eyes closed
because he Knew
you were naked.

but didn’t know- 
you didn’t
care.