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