Meet Luna

“I always wondered
what’s it like to live with your guard down?”
As she sat in her space ship parked outside the mothership

She looked outside her airplane like window
and marveled at the milky way across
in the middle of a sea of stars

Then she moved her sight from the vast unknown
to her vintage ridden pod, she calls home
filled with Earthly jewels

Her walls harnessed records of her favorite artists
ranging from Simon and Garfunkel from her father
to Jimi Hendrix, Baez… and the list goes on till the early 2000’s

“Oh I miss you” she sighed to Earth
Then she realized how people’s recklessness led them
up there

“She got up and went to her fridge
got a medium sized cube
wrapped in aluminum stamped with big black bold letters
“Chicken Dinner – with FREE dessert*
*Just add H2O
She hovered her eyes inside her rectangular prism that replaced fridges
so as to find something more appealing, but there were egg whites
and chasers for her vodka she preserved from earth

“I’ll just pour me a cup
it’s a slow night, tonight”

She sat on the table facing her window
in front of her type-writer
she smiled, her sister bought her that
on her 27th birthday, on Earth

Luna set her cup on the galaxy colored coaster
“what’s it like?”
She firmly typed
then she sat back on her swirling chair head back
marveling at her transparent ceiling, that offered the best view
of the starry sky, with shooting stars, flying spaceships,
she even heard music blasting from late night space ship cruises
“not a match for any wall paper” she always says

“AH” she jumped back to typing position

What’s it like….
to pop your hips like Iggy Pop
who had the world at every hip-swing he pulled?
I bet his mind was somewhere else and that “else”
was all he had and for hell’s sake, it worked for him”

“What’s it like…
to sway with the bottles of Jim Morrison
and melt in his trips
to create words, poetry, lyrics that accumulated
in importance year over year over year…? 
I bet he diluted the ice of standards 
in the silky rules of his own cup of Jack Daniels

“What’s it like… 
to trip with Hunter Thompson
to glide between reality and dream
to wake up in a hotel and ride a cloud?
I bet he took the “should’s” of writing
and crushed them into a thin line of “my should’s”
to write about everything and anything like Kerouac
and sprinkle my “i don’t care what you think’s”
on the ice cream of society  

“What’s it like…”

She paused, she took a sip of the condensing drink
overlooking the milky way from her window
“But I have so many….artists, creators, writers, psychopaths..
Uh” she talked to herself
while the doors “The End” played subtly in the background

“what’s it like..
to let your guard down
and taste every single sin
experience every single game 
fall for every single story
converse with every single flying thought?
What’s it like
to sit next to Baez as she fought with her heart, every time her guitar strums sang “Dylan”?

“What’s it like 
to sit on the porch with Son House, and hear as his heart
exposed himself creating the original blues and sipping on moonshine?

“What’s it like 
to be in between Simon and Garfunkel 
as their folk music embodied a beautiful era?” 

“What’s it like to 
sit with Egon Schiele and Klimt
as their lines breathed life into gorgeous women
giving asymmetry a new definition of beauty?” 

“What’s it like …”
Then she tilted her head to the right
as if that part of her brain weighed her down with thought
and started typing mindlessly

“what’s it like for her to let her guard down?”
“Would it pave the way to the next drunken writer
seduced by the toxic taste of her none refillable vodka?”
“would it pump life in her heart, one who craves to bite
a piece of what love tasted like?” 
“would it urge her to quit her 9 to 5 job 
and live by the rules of her lover Edgar Allen Poe
and write endlessly, sleeplessly ..?”

“What’s it like to love like Juliet 
what’s it like to have her heart think for her
Did Shakespeare feel the stab of love that it drove him mad?”

“What’s it like to let your guard down”

Luna got her pencil and scratched your  and wrote “my”
She felt an adrenaline rush, one that’s become foreign to her heart

Suddenly the space pod bell rang
she used the intro of “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” for the Beatles
for the bell ring tone, she also programmed it in a way where her pod
would change colors with every beat

She got up and opened the door
not knowing that her guards have been stripped
with every line she wrote
It was Vega her friend
She forgot he was coming over
She opened the door and turned to her desk
He followed, he knew she was writing
because she tends to disconnect with her surroundings
He smiled and followed her inside, he saw her cup
and he poured one for him
he sat across from her
lit her a cigarette and lit himself one
She took it, smiled at him
“one sec”

He smiled and hummed with Jim Morrison “The End”
as the milky way posed
as the perfect view

galaxy porch


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