by Randy Boone
I flew above the universe last night
believing in most of what I saw,
abstractions blurred by ozone,
stars a million miles near.
In space you can do anything.
A gopher once told me that.
I tried to sing a requiem,
in falsetto,
and conjure faith from
bandaged fingertips.
I learned atop the universe
never to trust in gophers,
never to doubt my song.
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