exposed

yep i was exposed

to the space race

in the fifties and sixties

we drove

across the continent fifty times

to get to the moon

in my mind

the endless scrub gravel grey khaki

all cuneiform

skimmed the bitumen horizon we hardly noticed

service stations fish shops

scenery while

i sang unchained melody

in motel showers

the others ordered steak diane

plugged in the juke box took command of sleepy bars

or found a piano for a medley

of sentimental upright prewar tunes

the trick

was to keep standing

on one dream at a time

while the moon rose like a golfball

over carina