My Spaceship Runs on Dreams
_I wanted to wish upon a star
So I started to build a spaceship.
Not one for building
I quickly learned monkey wrenches
Have nothing to do with monkeys
and everything to do with wrenches.
Thinking that made me think of you at the wedding,
Doing a dance that had little to do with chickens
And was nowhere near funky.
Oh, your lipstick!
You never wore lipstick
Because you said it made you
But you wore it that day.
Blood-red on your lips,
Some smeared onto your teeth
And I called you grandma,
Laughing as you slipped the hem
Of the dress into your hose,
Playing the part.
Always playing the part.
I know you said I never finish anything,
But I will finish that spaceship.
In fact, isn’t it you who can’t seem to finish
Things these days?
Why couldn’t you have finished what you started?
I’m still scrambling to finish it for you,
But there’s a lot of paperwork
No one but you had access to.
So it’s on my to-do list.
Right beneath spaceship.
I must say, considering fuel prices,
A spaceship doesn’t seem too economical these days.
I’d like mine to run on dreams,
But every time I tell someone about it
They suggest I shit in one of my hands.
Do people actually take that advice?
If something’s not helpful
You can hardly call it advice. If I wanted sarcasm,
I could have just read your journal.
That reminds me of the old joke
They tell in space.
I can’t remember the set-up
But the punchline is
You always told the punchline first.
Just like the last thing you said to me was out of context:
“I’ll see you later.”
Would you have said something different
Had you known the punchline?
If something’s not funny,
You can hardly call it a joke.
A punchline without a laugh
Assuming completion by next spring,
I could be making my first legitimate wish
I tried to make a wish from earth,
But I think I was too small in the grand scheme of things
To be noticed.
I would be noticed on a star.
Astronomers would look through their telescopes and say,
“Look at that sunspot on Omega-3.
Omega-3 rarely has sunspots, so this,
This must be important.”
I’m suddenly reconsidering this whole spaceship thing
Because my one real wish is for you to be home,
And if I’m off wishing upon a star
I won’t be there to greet you, and say,
“What took you so long?”
It occurs to me that all this time I’ve been waiting for you,
You might have been waiting for me too.
Remember our first summer,
When you waitressed at the beach
While I stayed in the city?
And one night when the constellations
Salted the sky, we both had the same idea.
We drove right past each other.
You called me from my doorstep,
I answered from yours and said
I went to find you; I am not home.
“You should have waited for me there,” you said.
“You should have known I’d come back for you.”