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.
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