Space Monkey
by David Brennan
(Outer space. THE AUTHOR, in spacesuit so that no part of body or face is visible, hangs suspended above the stage. The voice in surround sound.)
FRANTIC FRANTIC I’M FRANTIC THE BUBBLE HEAD
BOBBING IN INHUMAN UNTOUCHABLE DARK MATTER DESERT
WHERE SUN FORGOT NIGHT AND STILL AIN’T HOT
STARS AND STARS AND BAUBLES AND CORN COB GNAWED CLEAN
WHO AM I? I’M LONELY WHO AM I? ALONE
I’M DEATH BY DESERTION I’M THE STING TO GET THE HONEY
SERIAL KILLER PRISON COT URINATED ON AND BURNED
WITH BODY STILL HUGGING SLEEP SOAKED IN THE CROTCH
BECAUSE HANDCUFFS AND NO KEY EQUAL LACK OF LOCOMOTION
WHY AM I HERE AT ALL? WHY AM I HERE AT ALL?
IT’S NOT MY PLACE TO BE WHERE I COULD CONVERSATE
BREATHE THE NOSE RING OF A TEENAGE FACE
DRIVE DUMPTRUCKS THROUGH PEDESTRIAN CROSSWALKS
STOP TO BAG AND DISPOSE OF THE RUBBISH
I’M SPACE TRASH
I’M NOTHING NOBODY WANTED AROUND
I AM BUT AM
RELEGATED TO UNDECOMPOSING PAST
NOBODY SEES ME THROUGH TELESCOPE
NOBODY SEES ME THROUGH BINOCULARS
NOBODY SEES ME THROUGH MICROSCOPE
IT’S NOT POWER OF ZOOM BUT EYE’S ANGLE
A MIRROR THAT CAN BREATHE WHERE NO AIR IS
PERFECTLY PRESERVED AND PURPOSELY MISPLACED
EYE GLASSES FOR BLIND EYES GROUND BENEATH HEEL
AND CLAIMED ACCIDENT
HOW KIND OF YOU
I’M THE ANSWER TO WEATHER
WITHOUT FACE TRACE THE FOOTSTEPS I’VE NEVER WALKED THE MOON
EARTH ORBIT INCHING ME TOWARD ATMOSPHERE
HUMAN PROXIMITY VAST LIVING CEMETERY
IF DESCENDING I SLASH A PARABOLA BRIGHT ENOUGH PERHAPS
I’LL BE INSCRIBED IN THE ASTRONOMER’S LOG
BOOK WITH NUMBER AND TIME
BOBBING IN INHUMAN UNTOUCHABLE DARK MATTER DESERT
WHERE SUN FORGOT NIGHT AND STILL AIN’T HOT
STARS AND STARS AND BAUBLES AND CORN COB GNAWED CLEAN
WHO AM I? I’M LONELY WHO AM I? ALONE
I’M DEATH BY DESERTION I’M THE STING TO GET THE HONEY
SERIAL KILLER PRISON COT URINATED ON AND BURNED
WITH BODY STILL HUGGING SLEEP SOAKED IN THE CROTCH
BECAUSE HANDCUFFS AND NO KEY EQUAL LACK OF LOCOMOTION
WHY AM I HERE AT ALL? WHY AM I HERE AT ALL?
IT’S NOT MY PLACE TO BE WHERE I COULD CONVERSATE
BREATHE THE NOSE RING OF A TEENAGE FACE
DRIVE DUMPTRUCKS THROUGH PEDESTRIAN CROSSWALKS
STOP TO BAG AND DISPOSE OF THE RUBBISH
I’M SPACE TRASH
I’M NOTHING NOBODY WANTED AROUND
I AM BUT AM
RELEGATED TO UNDECOMPOSING PAST
NOBODY SEES ME THROUGH TELESCOPE
NOBODY SEES ME THROUGH BINOCULARS
NOBODY SEES ME THROUGH MICROSCOPE
IT’S NOT POWER OF ZOOM BUT EYE’S ANGLE
A MIRROR THAT CAN BREATHE WHERE NO AIR IS
PERFECTLY PRESERVED AND PURPOSELY MISPLACED
EYE GLASSES FOR BLIND EYES GROUND BENEATH HEEL
AND CLAIMED ACCIDENT
HOW KIND OF YOU
I’M THE ANSWER TO WEATHER
WITHOUT FACE TRACE THE FOOTSTEPS I’VE NEVER WALKED THE MOON
EARTH ORBIT INCHING ME TOWARD ATMOSPHERE
HUMAN PROXIMITY VAST LIVING CEMETERY
IF DESCENDING I SLASH A PARABOLA BRIGHT ENOUGH PERHAPS
I’LL BE INSCRIBED IN THE ASTRONOMER’S LOG
BOOK WITH NUMBER AND TIME
Symphony
Trip-hop
Metal
New Age
Reggae
Glam Rock
Muzac
Explosions
Lounge
Beat-box
Techno
fades into Sinatra’s “Love and Marriage“
