I’d look up at the moon, and even though intellectually
I knew he was up there, I couldn’t believe it.
Smiling, they drag their feet to the death watch,
dust rising. Ardent beneath the tower,
their precarious shoes powdered with dirt.
The sun, shining bright as danger, beats down
heat on their faces. Riveted, graceful,
disappearing in a thought experiment,
they air kiss, wrapped in exquisite boredom.
Cool spectators, devotion rules their hearts.
(Americana). Decorous mannequins
they gaze into space. Blank: thrilled, happy, proud.