I Hardly Knew About You

I Hardly Knew About You                       April 2, 2007

 

Smacked around all live long day.

Sleeping in my eyes-opened trance.

Can't figure out where to start

When there seemed to never be a beginning.

Matter is like that, I suppose.

It's infinite in its age.

 

Then day's end comes.

Earth stops spinning if for but a moment.

I jump on my rocket ship

And fly towards that piece of green cheese in the sky.

One small step for man, maybe,

But a thrust towards independence for yours truly.

A couple of gin and tonics numb the senses.

Stars fly through the sky - shooting, I reckon.

Space is black as night is densely opaque.

The sun is full of inhibitions for the living

For it lightens the day, so they tell me.

Too bad I'm oft blinded by the incandescence.

 

Earth grows smaller by second.

The clouds don't swirl from up here like I'm used to.

My sea is rather black above the little blue sphere,

A mere drop of water in the vast ocean of the cosmos.

From what I can now ascertain, this is just a vacuum.

Hoover wasn't really so original after all.

 

So I land on the moon.

The journey that once was is now not.

The resort, clear of all life as I know it,

Is not so profoundly jocund as I once thought.

So to the macrocosm, or the lack thereof.

I hardly knew about you after all.