Just What I Needed
Being a little handy
with mechanical things
and having a little spare time
I built a ship. Thinking ahead
I stuck in a tape deck, threw in
my Coleman Hawkins eight-track
and headed out, made a quick trip
past Venus and Mercury, circled the sun,
stopped on the way back
to check out the dark side of the moon
(I had the foresight to include headlights
for just such an occasion).
Mars, been there done it.
My destination was Jupiter.
Fascinating planet.
I put on my super-duper spacesuit
fired my ablative retro-rocket thingy,
and explored the surface,
such as it is. A very ethereal experience.
The people I met
were welcoming. The whole
thing kind of reminded me
of Nebraska, homey, down to earth
(so to speak), I don't know,
just good folk. They were curious
about me and my life on earth,
it's always nice when people
aren't so into themselves that they can't
make polite inquires after one's health
and well being. Something else
in common with Nebraska, no beach,
hence, no beach volleyball.
They were very curious about that.
I told them about the vendors
at the Santa Monica beach, selling
fresh fruit, and they said, "huh,"
having a substantially different diet
than on earth, mostly consisting
of chick peas and other salad items,
and something very close to Doritos.
I spent several weeks there, learned
enough of the language to get by.
I even had a close encounter
with a female equivalent, not that close,
I explained that I was married,
and though my wife allows me to dream
of other woman, I'm not allowed to fool around,
so it was, as I said, not that close of an encounter.
As I was thinking about leaving, going on
to Neptune, Uranus, the Outer Planets,
they hemmed and hawed until I finally said,
"wtf," and they said not to waste my time,
nothing worth seeing, and the inhabitants
have a big chip on their collective shoulders,
and etc. Taking them at their word
I collected phone numbers and addresses,
promised to keep in touch, leave the porch light on,
and off I went, and glad I did
as I was getting homesick. The best thing
about traveling is coming home,
slipping into a warm and cozy bed,
snuggling up, hearing the familiar sounds
of the furnace kicking on, the owl that hoots,
and all that jazz. It was a good trip.
Poetry by jim
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Written on 2015-02-17 at 15:08
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