Blame the burning man on the Moon

We could of course blame it all on the moon– this insanity. Last nights orb more ominous, potent, pregnant then ever. Such a force has been known to drive men to distraction, senses to senselessness, ocean’s into significant frenzy.
Why not us? Watery, ephemeral, flammable, temperamental substances we are. It would be arrogant to imagine ourselves exempt.
I have not the ovaries to offer me the valid biological explanation for these cycles. Some of us dont .But sure enough there it is”“ a restless internal body of water rising up– making for a muggy head and helpless state.
I have dreams on such nights of flying in a paper aeroplane — a giant jumbo paper jet of which I am a passenger. There is no pilot to this plane–we are at the mercy of the wind. Launched into the air, draft depending, my plane finally collides with the city below. Cities of course are not formed from such a flimsy substance. They are of a more concrete cardboard and hardy metal.
Did you see last week that Chinese City rise up like a prehistoric dragon and devour its inhabitants. Cities you see (like people) can be unpredictable things.
Did you see the man set on fire on the front page? Did you see the news presenter gag on her own tears this morning? Did you see?
I think of Jonathan Swift at such times. I think of Gulliver, returned from his travels with reams of rosemary stuffed up his nose””the very whiff of mankind repulsing him. I’m not a misanthropist (not nearly) but with seeing comes its own responsibilities, its own inevitable urges.
So I’ll blame the moon, hope it wanes soon, pulls these bloody tides far back out to sea.