The Persistence o’ Melted Lasagnafication

Image by J. J. W. Mezun. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

Waking & sleeping in space with groggy stars reheated in the microwave & static transmissions singing lazy late-afternoon pop songs was where I lost the hours, & there’s not ‘nough thrusters to turn round & retrieve them. Keep your eyes on the Milky Ways, its tails gushing in a thousand directions like Brinstar mazes.

But my headphones slow, too; drifting.

Quit fiddling with the controls, private. Steer.

& I feel that, others get to ride ‘long Jupiter’s rings; but I’m wandering the poisonously inky haze round Pluto.

Still, the sun burns me & feeds me helium.