My Blood Has Been To The Moon

My Blood Has Been To The Moon
by pat a physics
Trading places with the lonely zoologist, I seldom perform card tricks like back on earth. The red metal banisters lead the way toward mild gravity. Sinking my body into the controlled inner-construct, my mind thinks about the blood. It’s good blood. My blood has been to the moon. What I don’t know is hard to express to someone whose life depends on the job I’m doing. Gut reactions will manifest themselves shortly, and I will have time to reflect. The crane is the only thing connecting me to civilization, a drifting arc that could vanish, evaporate. It is amusing to make a noise with my mouth, to cut up on million dollar equipment, pile drive a space shuttle perhaps. The carefree attitude I espouse is regarded with a surprise. Do I know what I’m doing? I’m not letting all of this build up to a critical moment just to play a card trick with national aeronautics, am I? National aeronautics is dicey enough as it is, man. What with all of the million dollar equipment floating in a vacuum, surrounded by variables that could end it all in a single evaporative error. What is not known will not be expressed. My family is hundreds of thousands miles away, and I’m doing fine. That is all I know.