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.