Someone taped hair to a rocket,
It’s zinging through the room,
Shattering the speed of sound,

Blam!
Whoosh!
Scruffle!
Boom!

Exit stage left,
Enter stage right,
It’s a three stage rocket,
Scooting out of sight.

Air.
Floor.
Couch.
Door.

This object is in MOTION
And it’s filling ALL of space.

But whats that Houston?
A pointed nose.
Frozen.
There.
In place.

A tongue extends.
A scent portends
Across the lunar seas.

A rump touch down.
A whimper sounds.
Wet eyes projecting pleas…

And, yes. Control [sniff]

We can confirm [sniff sniff]

The moon IS made of cheese!

GULP!!!

Bryson Thomas