When the Moon Hits Your Eye

Like a big Pizza Pie.

At first, it makes no sense. No sense at all. When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie?

Dean Martin you old flirt, whatever could that mean?

It was 3p on this sedetary Tuesday, I had eaten the entire contents of my lunch bag by 11:30a and I was on my way to the kitchen to sneak just a few saltines to see me through the rest of the day when...the moon hit my eye. Congealed cheese, withered pepperoni, crust on the south side of soggy from it's own sweat and grease. There it was, a half-eaten, pizza pie.

I can only imagine how my eyes lit up the sight.

Dean, you are a poet and a gentleman. And that's amore.