DESTINATION MOON

Author note: WATER FOUND ON MOON (recent headline)

Previously, ice (probably massive amounts of it) was detected at the moon's poles.

One Shot Wednesday

When I was seven I sent in a coupon from the back page of a magazine.

It said SIGN UP NOW TO BE ABOARD THE FIRST ROCKET TO THE MOON.

They left without me in "69--an oversight for which I've forgiven them.

Now, they tell me there's ICE on the moon...

do you know what that means?

We'll establish colonies, shop in underground malls,

figure skate in the sea of tranquility.

Oh, can we go ma, huh mama, can we go?

When I was sixteen I was convinced I would solve the mystery

of the universe, as I cussed and manhandled the pinball machine

in the pool hall that was more home to me than home.

A brilliant lad was I,

the apple of my very own eye,

as I watched it winking back at me from the mirror.

Now, I behold that celestial sphere

and perceive the image of...what?

There's ice on the moon--

we must determine what this means for children of the ghetto

and poets who expire too soon.

We are the only species on a quest for meaning...

and when we find none we proclaim this lack of meaning

must be indicative of something!

I'm searching for my identity--

did you see it pass by?

I had it once upon a time--

butcher, baker, candlestick maker...

and I wonder why we're all so quick to identify

with something other than our common humanity.

And it must be a trick of the eye that from a vantage point on the moon

we can discern no countries...

yet here, even in Death Valley, we can see them all quite clearly.

And as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death

we will be like Evil Kneivel--

rocket jockeys shooting the gorge to glory!

And as the earth rises--an imposing blue pelota swimming in space--

will you sip from your can of Mountain Dew

and say, "Been there...done that?"

When I was twenty-three I saw my soul stripped naked

as the world of matter disintegrated around me

and I knew I was onto something...

but something still eludes me.

There's ice on the moon...

can we go ma, huh mama, can we go?

When the wild animals are gone can we go?

When the cities are ablaze can we go?

When the television watches YOU can we go?

And I wonder how life will be--

Sea of Tranquility or Ocean of Storms...

Lake of Dreams or Marsh of Decay?

There's ice on the moon

blood in the streets

tears in my eyes

salt in my tears...

a remnant of our life in the sea.

And where have our instincts gone?

We, the dinosaurs of devolution

sinking slowly back into the slime

and all the time asking "why?"

And what do you suppose predisposes us

to give or not give a damn?

There is a memory hidden deep in my mind...

an image of that first amphibian that washed onto dry land

and took its first halting stride--one small step for creature--

a giant leap for creature kind.

I was there when it gazed up at that incandescent orb

and wept at the wonder of the thing.

There's blood on the moon

ice in our veins

pain in our hearts--

and somewhere in the night the voice of Marvin Gaye still echoes:

What's Goin' On? What's Goin' On?

And the earth is asking one question:

Do we love her enough...to leave her?

And I think of how we demonized the Russians for decades, for their ideology.

The "Evil Empire."

Now we may cheer for them at skating competitions--

their ideology has spun closer to ours.

When we define evil as that with which we are in conflict

then how shall we speak of the conflict within ourselves?

A cat knows how to be a cat.

We must LEARN how to be human.

And it COULD be a trick of the eye

that we see a man in the moon...

or is it just that we recognize our own reflection...in everything?