Bless
Often
when I am sad
I sit in my closet
and lean my head
against my wall
while I draw the shades
over my eyes
and dream about
walking on the moon
in a Gemini space suit.
In my Gemini space suit
I have left earth,
left my worries
in an empty shoe box
placed under my bed,
and float weightless
as I gaze
at the at the lite-brite constellations
glowing in citrus watercolor
against canvases
of pumpernickel
mixed with
the crema
of fine espresso.
It is quiet
in my Gemini space suit
and my thoughts
begin orbiting
around my helmet
interrupted
only by the hush
of breath
brushing up against
sea shells
and sandcastles
found on banks
and beaches
of coastal towns.
I think about
writing you
saying
something that comes
from the heart
like
it means a lot
when you squeeze my hand
three times
in succinct fashion
when we walk together
in the park
or to the thrift store
on 3rd. ave
and then folding my note
dropping it inside
a package of freeze-dried
strawberry ice cream
and then sending it off
in space to earth
addressed to you
by writing
on electrical tape
with a fisher space pen
hoping that it will
have found its way
to your home by morning.
While in space
my heart says more
than my lips
will reveal.
When I begin to feel
like a thousand winters
melting
glacial runoff
pouring from my space suit
I will take my canoe
and row out
on an astral plane of
holographic waves
where
blue whales
and seahorses
will console
this tired heart.
I will think about nothing
and gaze at the
walk in closet
containing
the darkened
closet where I have been sitting
imagining space
in every which sense.
Space as us.
Space as you and I.
It is then
that I will awake
open the door of my closet
and wait until
I can open my parachute
and float back down
to earth.
by Brett Gallagher
