by Rich Ives
You might want to find a better reason than
just being able to say, “Hey, I flew to the sun.”
You might want to think about who will believe you.
If you think you’re going to make your father proud,
think again. He tried something similar with his father.
The great ocean is littered with the bones of foolish sons.
Your father’s lucky to be alive. So are you, come to think of it.
One thing always leads to another. Another always leads to death.
Begetting and begetting, then self-immolation. It’s a damn good thing
we respect bone meal and donkey carts and organic gardens
and too many ways to reinvent the wheel. Maybe you should try
flying the other direction, the way beets, and carrots, and potatoes do.
Or is it merely because there’s always an aftermath, and you want to know
how memorable yours could be? How many people will use you to teach their
children how you already had too much of a good thing and you wanted even more?
Every day your journey gets longer, everyone learning moderation before any
have even experienced excess. Some lessons require mistakes. You can’t save us from ourselves, but
you can fall farther and deeper than anyone else has. Now swim.