Thursday, April 12, 2012
Your showroom is outer space
or low earth orbit
or the West Coast of the U.S.
It’s three stages that end in the sea,
coming up short of the mesosphere.
What do you fear when you hear “blastoff”?
You have a rocket in your panic room.
You have a panic in your bomb shelter.
You have canned goods in your fuck parlor.
You have a gas mask in your convention center.
You have a Hummer instead of a boner.
Imagine splashdown after a short flight,
being pitched forward, your
metal tubes failing to separate,
your parachutes never billowing,
lowering you safely back to earth.
Now imagine how that rocket felt.