(C) 2010 by Metta Anderson – All Rights Reserved
It just arrived/I’m so thrilled/My new computer/Beckoning me/to/ take off/the universe awaits
Fernando and I study diagrams/move things around/are we ready/what’s this cord/and that plug/ and this. . .
It’s like a time warp
We aren’t in Bogotá
We’re at/Cape Canaveral
The rockets/under the Atlas/ROAR with life/thundering/roaring/building up/collecting thrust
Are we ready/for lift-off?
The crowd watches/breathless
Walter Cronkite wannabes/run their mouths/commentary is meaningless
Engines burn/brighter and brighter/power increases/increases more/causes the earth to rumble. Everyone
can feel the strain/of the rockets/their desire to soar/be free
Then a voice/neutral/masculine/in the captain’s ear
“Eagle One/this is Canaveral. . .
The Atlas groans/relieved/surges forward/upward/skyward. . .
But in my house/we pause/we hesitate/and then
I push the button/”ignition”/green lights/flash on/it’s like a breath
Fernando leans forward/scrutinizes the screen/its blankness/its darkness/and then/ginerly/carefully
Presses a button/lower right corner/molecular noise/not a hiss/
The screen lights up/a bright happy red
We had blasted off.