“I Hadn’t Cried in Twenty Years”


Walking through the science museum

in Kensington, you stop once more in

front of the stack of wrought iron and

intricately machined cogs and gears of

Mr. Babbage’s machine and

wonder what he would

think of this modern world of vacuum tubes

and television.

Often, as you wander down the venerable halls,

you’d look upon the spruce and fabric

covered bird hanging from wires in

the ceiling.

Staring up you marvel at this slightly

moldering relic

and smell the musty odors of far off

Kitty Hawk and the machine oil in farther

Dayton, Ohio.

Adjusting your tortoiseshell glasses

and pushing back your already

thinning hair

you walk back outside into dazzling

sunshine- suddenly back in present

day 1969.

The Florida seas lash out somewhere

nearby and stark before you is the

350 foot tall spire of steel that is

Apollo, roaring it’s bloody flames

from lion’s mouths agape

and the thundering climax of sound

washes over you and seems to

dislodge your very heart from

its ribcage shell; and the tears

in your eyes, the first in twenty years,

float you on an ocean of relentless emotion

that you sail- in memory golden,

just as the rocket sets its course

to sail the silver moon.


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