The Presser

the Buzz, Collins, Armstrong, applause. first man, there were three earthlings who were projected into space. crowded, not of this world of celebration and glory. before lights flashing, attention-demanding. mission impossible, a presser. to the moon, but dry in the throat. watch the hands, fiddling with papers, sooth-petting. not practiced in speech; not 2024 peak. lights out in black box - perhaps the famous astronauts imagine they’re back in space, clear from prying eyes as they turn attention to the somewhere screen. In 2024, we’re bored because we’ve learned to be entertained at fast speed, not stuttering-suspended in animation. fine fellows, firsts paved the way to now - history-bound. funny photo caused levity, liftoff of audience lightened the payload. next up, Buzz in blue, looks directly at the crowd, hands in pounce mode. fight or flight, so apropos. Neil continues, more comfortably explaining, after his two constituents calmed the waters. later the moon will peer down in the night sky. today kids don’t dream of flight, they fly effortlessly through the skies and little Einsteins is not impossible in their eyes. but back in 1969 a sleepy me, just 8, witnessed the first moon landing.