She had taken a picture of the moon. I remained, admiring the night, conducting a nicotinic meditation in the great outdoors, then stowed my pipe in the pumphouse and headed for the back porch door.
"Boa noite Lua."
"Geo., you may address me in your current language." Then she appeared upon the planet that is also a portal to her world.
"Lovely, but dated. How can I feel anything but old when named by ancient Greeks?"
"Prosperina? Hecate? Diana? Juno?"
"No! I share no responsibilities with pseudonyms now more often used to name racehorses and fishing boats!"
"Do I look like I have horns?"
"No, you are as beautiful tonight as you were when you made your covenant with Gaia to share an orbit around the sun a billion and a half years ago. What is upsetting you?"
"Well, it's just a few things. No one wants to live on moons because other planet-dwellers call them lunatics instead of Lunarians..."
"What about Selenites? That's a pretty name."
"A name your H. G. Wells imprinted upon literature as ill-mannered insectoids!"
"What do you prefer?"
"I like Lycanthra. Lycanthropes in literature had bubbly personalities."
"Why would you think that?"
"I've monitored your werewolf movies and noticed, under my full moon, they all froth at the mouth!"
"I shall not call you Lycanthra."
"But how do you account for all the unpleasant things Earth People insist upon doing when there are so many pleasant things to do?"
I confess I can't, and hope you can help correct the problem...and wish you good night Lua. I love you."
"I love you too, Geo."