'Poemtry Slop via The AD Reading Series'—
Way Up There
When you suggested a potion to fix our ills,
All I could think about was Laika’s space flight.
How when she was shot up into the company of stars,
She must have found out what lousy conversation thermonuclear fusion makes.
Her master’s holy diver in orbit to make certain,
It would have been difficult feeling like mankind’s best friend.
I thought about the rocket fragments,
Tiny truths that rained back down on us with time.
How euthanasia before the oxygen ran out was a deflection,
That accepted she was never coming home.
All the visitors and friends she’d have up there,
Would be cat people floating on their own.
'Google Space' Ad pitch done with 1st Ave Machine—
We are number one this year,
Blue blooded men bred for this purpose.
You too can become better than them,
If you’ve been with us from the beginning.
We are not number one this year,
Promise me I am more perfect than ever.
We’ll never crown these savage pretenders,
We have been taught all about their kind.