in the pinprick pixel a spacewalker's windowpane helmet cracks/implodes and the
vacuum sucks self through facemask, yanking the entire crew's life support system
through the umbilicus of the mothership's belly like a badly-made sausage still attached
to the pig and in that millisecond of reflection through spiderwebbed glass screen he
knows he can break through he knows he can touch the stars and the way out -- the way
to do it -- is in is in is in the lyrics of an SF Poem he read in the space station's
historical library going back inside going back in time going back to Earth going home
a silent popand unmanned the ship discovers an undreamed-of
and evaporatesshowering Houston
I dream sleep wake up things outside my mind scans well - Michael A. Arnzen
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