List: Almonds, protein bars and cranberries. Toothpaste.
The Weaver, as weavR, is now following my blog posts,
says she’ll buy me a burro. Offered to take me off-world.
Sunflower caresses car metal, a minor neutron explosion.
2028, the Illuminated Falcon heads out, carrying 7-sailors;
Weaver’s going to buy us seats, only two nonessentials allowed.
We’ll be headed to Mars, weavR and I, like ruddy pilgrims.
Must work on potable water devices, to be used upon landing.
Will the habitat domes hold us safe and sound until replenishment?
In the year of the monkey I was born on Planet Earth, crying.
In the year of the monkey I discover a promising way forward, hopeful.
In the year of the monkey I’ll immigrate to a new world, laughing.
Will it all be ready? Or is the dream too shiny and unattainable?
It’s farfetched, but monkeys must dream. We must push beyond.
K. Shawn Edgar | Monkey | Shiny | Fighter of Fights