me, too
I, too, would like to be asked
to write a poem to be placed
inside a rocket rocketing into space.
a space poem, a rocket poem.
a poem written from far, far away.
a poem for Jupiter.
a poem for little green men;
little green men with big fat heads
and antennae sticking out, same as
the old earthbound television sets,
save they would see us before we'd see them.
a poem for nothing of nothing.
a poem better suited for the blindness
of an endless dark, matter-less, senseless,
the senselessness of emptiness.
a poem of ever seeming but never being.
my poem'll be a slow poem taking its time
hitching a ride in a fast machine.
that’ll be my poem. it'll be a love poem.
