I don't seem to spend very much time writing for fun anymore, but sometimes I like to take ten minutes and go wild...
Alright, I’ll tell you the truth… I’ve never been to the moon. I lied before. When I said that I snuck onto that rocket ship… that was a lie. I’m sorry. But if it helps, I believed it for a while myself.
Because I remember it pretty clearly. Sneaking onto the rocket as it was taking off. Pretending that I was delivering a pizza. I slipped right by security. And next thing I knew, bang. We were lifting off. And someone said, “put on a seat belt, kid!” And I did. And away we went. Up into the sky. And then we were on the moon. Just like that.
And I remember stepping outside and just floating into the space of the moon. I remember the glow. There was this painting of Neil Armstrong there. Hanging on a single, man-made wall. It looked like he built it himself.
And after I got my bearings, Karl (the guy I was with) and I setup a picnic right there in a crater. We had space lemonade and starwiches. That’s what he called them. We enjoyed our lunch and left the crumbs for the space ants. Then we went back to the ship, left the moon and made our way back to earth.
But I don’t know when I woke up. That’s part of the reason I believed it.
And who knows really. Who’s to say what’s real and what’s not? You know? What if dreams are reality and reality is just a dream? Where does that put us? Then I’m only a liar for telling you I was lying. And we, as Americans, are probably wasting way too much time sleeping. Am I right?
It’s a lot to process.
Anyway, I’m sorry for the confusion. But for what it’s worth, it’s gorgeous… the moon. Pearly colored and soft. You should go there. You’d really like it.