Space Dreams

Most people don’t know this but I’m an amateur astronaut. At the tender age of five my pops found me flying my kite in the solar wind. It wasn’t that I was extraterrestrial, like most astronauts, it’s just that I had this lunar module that I couldn’t get off my mind. Early mornings before school my mom would wake me up, I’d jump in the shower, take a quick trip to mars, and then pour myself a bowl of Honey Comb. At school, my friends wanted to play, or do drugs, or learn, all I did was moon buggy. Once it was legal, I started on asteroids… just the outer belt. After college on the sun, I met my wife at the international space station. When I saw her sitting in that Starbucks, sipping zero gravity latté, I knew our shuttle would last forever. Honeymoon on the ring planet. I got an interplanetary nine to five, and a nice condo in a suburban solar system. Now we have three adorable moonbeams.

Why am I still angry? Space lice? Martian traffic? Shaving? NO.

I’m angry because space is cold, dark, and mostly full of nothing.