It’s Always June on the Moon
It’s Always June on the Moon
I Think It’s Gonna Be a Long, Long Time...
June 8, 2020
The Eighth Day of the Sixth Month of the Last Year
If he had known the first day of summer would also be the last day of his life he still would have climbed into that rocket ship.
He wasn’t afraid of the moon or the stars or the velocity or the heat. He was afraid of being left behind on a world that got so raw even the flowers began to bite back with that hiss and those cackles like a demon from a crumbling fortress or a burning church.
He strapped on his helmet and kissed the summer goodbye before it ever even got started and launched that bullet into the night, not knowing or caring that the parachute was a terror of holes, the landing zone was a swamp of nightmares, and mission control was drunk on memory and melatonin.
The doomed chariot exploded into the June ether, going, going, fading away into a tomorrow of deep snow and fat smiles. Fat smiles! He screamed. Fat smiles! Fat smiles! Fat smiles! His words bouncing off the planets and the soulless, infinite canvas. --TK
Monday, June 8, 2020