To moonlight
is to work an extra job,
my father explained.

At the end of the day
sometimes he'd loosen his tie
and walk back to the loading dock
and sit with one or two of the smokers.
The moon's pale coin
was already in the late afternoon sky.
It was almost time
to go home. Almost.
The wood bench
was worn smooth with this sitting.
He was going to go home,
just not yet.