I see the moon
the moon sees me
the moon sees somebody
that I don't see
God bless the moon
and God bless me
and God bless the somebody that I don't see
If I get to heaven
before you do
I'll make a hole
and pull you through
and I'll write your name
on every star
and that way the world
won't seem so far
The astronaut will not be at work today. He has called in sick.
He has turned off his cell phone, his laptop, his pager, his alarm clock.
There is a fat yellow cat asleep on his couch, raindrops against the window
and not even the hint coffee in the kitchen air.
Everybody is in a tizzy.
The engineers on the fifteenth floor have stopped working on their particle machine.
The anti-gravity room is leaking, and even the freckled kid with glasses,
whose only job it is to take out the trash is nervous, fumbles the bag,
spills the banana peel and a paper cup. Nobody notices.
They are too busy re-calculating what this will mean for lost time.
How many galaxies are we losing per second?
How long before the next rocket can be launched?
Somewhere an electron flies off its energy cloud.
A black hole has erupted.
A mother finishes setting the table for dinner.
A "Law and Order" marathon is starting. The astronaut is asleep.
He has forgotten to turn off his watch which ticks like a metal pulse
against his wrist. He does not hear it.
He dreams of coral reefs and plankton.
His fingers find the pillow cases, sailing masts.
He turns on his side, opens his eyes once.
He thinks that scuba divers must have the most wonderful job in the world,
so much water to glide through.
Thank you.
When I was little, I could not understand the concept that you could only live one life. And I don't mean this metaphorically -- I mean I literally thought that I was going to get to do everything there was to do and be everything there was to be, it was only a matter of time. And there was no limitation based on