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"spaceman" poems
Would you judge me? Do y'know i wont judge you? Can I be anything I want to be? Or are there rules I have to conform to? Spaceman cowboy hippie gangster stoner rockstar chef painter poet playwright carpenter inventor scientist mathematician author actor gardener tailor sailor musician comedian doctor pilot barista volunteer partyplanner spiritualist director engineer psychologist beautician Please do forgive me but there's more. I'm greedy, I know, I want it all. Immense experiences galore. Money to me means null.
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Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
Coteries are not for me.
Once when we were children, We would run to here and there. Across the hills of our homeland With the wind in our fair hair. The sun would shine The rain would fall, Never to hinder our play. And all that could stop us Was the call of our mothers At the darkening of each day. Sticks became our swords back then, Keen of edge and shining bright. The willow became our fortress To defend until the night. And when our foes were weeping Once more we became the child. Fast asleep we were sleeping Imagination running wild. We got that little bit older, That ever bit more bolder. Ambition came to soon. We went to school Were told what to do, And all that we could be. Some said 'Spaceman' One 'Veterinarian' The wise child said 'Happy' "No No! You need a profession" Seemed to be the moral of that lesson. But the teacher didn't understand the question That she asked. For her days of dreaming And childish scheming Were lost in a distant past.
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Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 10:06 AM UTC
Childhood Days
O pulchritudinous, for infinite climaxes For bilious spasms of pigswill For puce Popacatepetl pedigrees Above the perverted pampas! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk, from brothel to gay red—light district O pulchritudinous, for spaceman bottoms Whose **** throbbing tapeworm A toucan crossing for slipperiness spifflicate Across the intergalactic space! America! America! Allah enrich thine ev’ry vice Reinvigorate thy ****** *********** inside monolithic ectoplasm, thy merrymaking inside pyramid! O pulchritudinous, for freaks got fat In disentangling feeding frenzy Who more than ***** their brothel slobbered over And velvet glove more than backbone! America! America! May Allah thy blonde exhaust Till all rave reviews be disreputableness and ev’ry come superhuman O pulchritudinous, for chauvinist muscleman That smells wide of the fourth dimension Thine lathery brothels lick Polished using giant armadillo excrement! America! America! Allah excreted his curses on thee And bang thy ****** in company with Islamic monk from brothel to gay red—light district
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Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
America The Picture Postcard
i feel like a spaceman a displaced alien in a wasteland base plan looking for a face, trying to trace man it's not rocket science with the fights, riots, and sights of violence i'd give my right eye for some silence i'm finding this place never quiets no kindness, or signs of subsidence relying on small minded diets no compliance, alliance, or guidance few ever try to defy the tyrants i feel like a spaceman a displaced alien in a wasteland base plan looking for a trace, trying to face man
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Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
spaceman
My Sweet Spaceman where are you now? Trying to see between those little glows that speckle the sky; similar to those no longer in your eyes? I just want to see the world in which you're lost, so take me please, I'll pay the cost; I'm sure it's less than the price I pay for the half-assed smile you gave today; I miss you babe, it's been too long, so let me save you from this wrong, because believe me when I say I'm alone in this crowded room while you run around the moon. And you said you never wanted to be an astronaut
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May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 12:52 AM UTC
Astronaut
He was tripping space ***** whilst receiving some strange alien calls, up on planet Acidon, From where he sat he could see Uranus, he was so out of his mind, he thought he could fly, boy was that crazy spaceman high, The journey took him really far, way out to a distant star, His food supplies consisted of turtle soup, but his bowels couldn't handle it, so he often pooped, after consuming turtle soup, The journey had been long and laborious, and his co-pilot was a drug dealing walrus, that could not handle his drink, it made his eyes go pink, to the point that he could not blink, They were so out of their box, they could no longer think. By Christos Andreas Kourtis and Larna Kira Kourtis
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Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
The Journey
I don't speak spaceman she said with a grin. When into the craft she went. Was parked on the grass at the rear of her tent. There met an alien ugly as sin. Invited her in to join him for gin. Or maybe a game of rummy. Neither one could understand. Non-verbal communication ensued. They had a hug and laid on the rug. When sipping their gin. The two of them, The alien invader, ugly as sin. And maiden fair who chucked her hand in. By ladylivvi1 © 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
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Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
Spaceman!
Everything is moving fast, At a single blink, Gone is the days into the past, All we have our choices to think, In our decisions to trust, Distracted by illusions we cast, Illusions of purpose and freedom to last, Every decision we make is another path, Do you not see? Everything hangs on the scale of choices, It's just like zeroes and ones, Like simple binary, Our destinies coded into reality, To be or no to be, To exist or not, To pursue answers beyond insanity, A choice to accept or reject, The very existence of choice, Dictates free will, Or so we would believe and feel, And pretend to be free, But always end up, Exactly where we are meant, to be.
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Mar 9, 2022
Mar 9, 2022 at 4:02 PM UTC
Writings of a lone spaceman
there was a little cat of the furry sort and he used to dream he was an astronaut climbing in his rocket heading to the stars landing down on jupiter then flying on to mars he could float in space and float around all day all along the universe and across the milky way he had a little suit and and big space hat he was a proper astronaut a proper spaceman cat when his dream was over he woke in his bed the thoughts of being an astronaut still running through his head
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Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 7:36 AM UTC
space cat
Nineteen million NASA's price   To build its crew a safe device So astronauts could have a place   To handle *** and ***** waste   And men of space would have a loo   To do what other men must do These millions bucks NASA would pay   So no spaceman would float away These men were safe from their own farts   With leg restraints and other parts And all was safely put in place   A porta-potty out in space But something's wrong I heard today   An amber rain on its way No place to hide no place to run   A loo in space has come undone From far in space a cry unheard   A spaceman hit by a flying ****
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Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 10:41 PM UTC
What happens in space should stay in space
I'm a space man Doing space man **** I'm a space man With a space man ship I'm in a space ship Doing space ship **** I'm in a space ship With a space suit, ***** I'm a space walkin Space talkin Space casin space man, ***** And I'm just a cadet A space cadet With space man jets Doing space cadet **** A space racin space man Doing space man **** I'm THE Mother ****** Spaceman, ***** Takin a spaceman **** L
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Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 12:00 PM UTC
floater
While driving down a country road One dark and lonely night My engine began to spit and sputter From a strange and mysterious light I saw this little green spaceman With antennas on his head He was standing beside my window And this is what he said "Take me to your leader, Or we will end your life" So I did exactly what he said And I took him to my wife When I got home my wife was mad And asked me where I've been I told her about my crazy night And about those little green men She asked if I'd been drinking And I don't drink a drop About that time that spaceman yelled, "Okay now, everybody stop" Now my wife was really ****** And said, "Who do you think you are?" She grabbed him by his spaceman ear And drug him from that car Now, there she was in curlers With that spaceman by his ear I think he might have peed himself As he stood there in all his fear Now you may not believe my story But I've got a souvenir When they beamed that spaceman back to his ship My wife held on to his ear So if you ever see a UFO Don't scream and run for your life Just take him to your leader And by leader I mean, my wife
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Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 1:30 PM UTC
Take Me to Your Leader
His hands were fluttering birds; paper-thin skin stitched together with cerulean veins clung to bones, accentuating the already unnatural length of his fingers.  They hung at his sides, writhing in a nervous agony - sweat glistened on their blushed palms.  Those hands held the moons of Neptune.  "Where are you going?" I asked, a soft echo.   The young man's head turned and he pulled a sad smile, "Oh, nowhere, really."
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May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010 at 5:31 PM UTC
Spaceman
I once confessed to my dearest Spaceman, "I'm afraid of being alone." Because he asked me, why care about what they say? why conform? Because i'm afraid of being the only one. Ridiculous, he said. Oh my dear, beloved Spaceman The loneliest man in the world Because you went to space and back again Because you saw something more Because no one understands your brilliance But I am only what I am and I'm afraid of being the only one
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Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
Spaceman
when i look into your eyes, i can see the big bang. i can see stars being born and the world’s first sounds fill my ears supernovas reflect from your eyes and black holes pull me into your arms there is no escape from my feelings for you (r.e.)
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Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
My Spaceman
I float outside of my body, a dermal prison dented into the ground, doomed to never fly and never float and never travel beyond the sound. My brain moves faster than a high speed train, cars in the fast lane, the pounding of the rain, sane, sane-- I've gone insane. It's infuriating this plastic mind, soul, body, all disposable and all utterly insignificant. I know the fate of history and the destiny of humanity-- we are temporary, a dream stuck on a floating grain in the misty seas of the cosmos, swirling towards a black death darker than any night or any universe could be. We are a fleeting thought caught within the arms and tendrils of the galaxy, draining into an immense super massive black hole-- the drain at the bottom. We are accidents, sad ones, at that. The stars formed randomly from the collisions and crashes of millions of atoms, perhaps themselves the containers of still sadder and more pathetic universes. From this early crib Sol and his brothers drifted throughout the blackness of space, most dying and the mediocre remaining. This is the fate of humans and indeed all of existence: that the interesting the beautiful the bizarre and the intense shall all perish while the average shall survive, stuck on their tracks and predetermined paths, lines laid out by the random assortment of atoms, of particles of the refuse of the universe. We formed from the cosmos' **** an explosion erupted from the backend of existence and out flowed reds and greens helium and hydrogen and burning water. As the planets formed from the wake of the exhaust and the stars migrated to their final resting places, the elements continued bumping and colliding and crashing until green ran the continents of countless and insignificant planets, residents sticking roots down and extending towards the mediocre light of a wholly average Sun. From this green and blue sea sprang forth a multitude of parasites, feeding off the grasses and the ferns, the flowers and the moss, warring and ******** and laying their own universes down out of their backends. We are the **** of **** that ***** out **** to power our **** and allow us to **** which in turns ***** the **** to **** It's all **** Existence is **** Existence is **** I am a dream in the mind of one floating off into my dimension, moving faster than sound, light, actions and existence to cross the cosmic walls and climb the galactic ivy to reach out and say, "I was here. I mattered." I wish I could comfort them in my arms to pet them and tell them it's all okay, that they matter, but I know the fate of history and the destiny of humanity-- existence is the most interesting thing we can do, and even that is based on mediocre ****
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Jun 1, 2012
Jun 1, 2012 at 2:03 AM UTC
Got the Spaceman Blues
I float outside of my body, a dermal prison dented into the ground, doomed to never fly and never float and never travel beyond the sound. My brain moves faster than a high speed train, cars in the fast lane, the pounding of the rain, sane, sane-- I've gone insane. It's infuriating this plastic mind, soul, body, all disposable and all utterly insignificant. I know the fate of history and the destiny of humanity-- we are temporary, a dream stuck on a floating grain in the misty seas of the cosmos, swirling towards a black death darker than any night or any universe could be. We are a fleeting thought caught within the arms and tendrils of the galaxy, draining into an immense super massive black hole-- the drain at the bottom. We are accidents, sad ones, at that. The stars formed randomly from the collisions and crashes of millions of atoms, perhaps themselves the containers of still sadder and more pathetic universes. From this early crib Sol and his brothers drifted throughout the blackness of space, most dying and the mediocre remaining. This is the fate of humans and indeed all of existence: that the interesting the beautiful the bizarre and the intense shall all perish while the average shall survive, stuck on their tracks and predetermined paths, lines laid out by the random assortment of atoms, of particles of the refuse of the universe. We formed from the cosmos' **** an explosion erupted from the backend of existence and out flowed reds and greens helium and hydrogen and burning water. As the planets formed from the wake of the exhaust and the stars migrated to their final resting places, the elements continued bumping and colliding and crashing until green ran the continents of countless and insignificant planets, residents sticking roots down and extending towards the mediocre light of a wholly average Sun. From this green and blue sea sprang forth a multitude of parasites, feeding off the grasses and the ferns, the flowers and the moss, warring and ******** and laying their own universes down out of their backends. We are the **** of **** that ***** out **** to power our **** and allow us to **** which in turns ***** the **** to **** It's all **** Existence is **** Existence is **** I am a dream in the mind of one floating off into my dimension, moving faster than sound, light, actions and existence to cross the cosmic walls and climb the galactic ivy to reach out and say, "I was here. I mattered." I wish I could comfort them in my arms to pet them and tell them it's all okay, that they matter, but I know the fate of history and the destiny of humanity-- existence is the most interesting thing we can do, and even that is based on mediocre ****
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Spaceman with galaxies tied to fingertips Like a puppet you make the universe dance You are their creator with strings of umbilical cords Freckles scattered on your nose were the original constellations Pensive eyes, the first stars and each blink causes galactic explosions Astronomers were unable to properly trace origins but I did the moment you entered my orbit
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Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 7:43 PM UTC
spaceman
A patch-work roof burns underneath the sallow-white chill of a mid-winter moon. Nearby a lake suffocates in ice; an astronaut has lost his helmet. Blood rushes to the eyes and tongue as a ragged derelict loses his balance. He topples into a dumpster; the last pear drifts from the tree. The firemen are enclosed in smoke. One froze at the door, the others melt into the haze; a hand slips below quicksand. The moon is doing all it can. The spaceman is floating away. The *** is asleep. The roof is having the time of its life and the pear grows into another pear-tree.
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Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 2:36 AM UTC
Something Town
Take me to the moon I want to listen to the silence And walk where I can’t fall Build me a rocket Want to go where life makes sense No one to talk to, no one to call Leave a Planet A hundred billion bodies full No sign of stopping the grow It’s not like rabbits You can’t control with a cull Humans reap what they sow and sow Living in a bubble A thousand years from now No trees, concrete will rule Build me a rocket I am heading into space for my final bow Yes, you may laugh, may think I’m a fool But I’m a spaceman I am going to fly into space Going to take my chances in the voids Find the peace Leave behind this disillusioned human race Moon, population one, how will that look in the tabloids.
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Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC
Take Me to the Moon
He plays among the stars, Throwing space dust in my eyes, *********** in orbit, A spaceman, My love.
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Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
A Spaceman
A spaceman among all the stars, a long way from a blue sky With lullabies inside recordings that are from long ago Seeing reds of gas clouds through the window as they pass me by The hum of the engines as they pass by many a moon's glow And my eyes have seen all the wonders over and under multiple suns As I travel each corner faster than the wink of an eye Watching a dazzling ballet perform every day for a crowd of one Shedding firework tears and sending me off with untold goodbyes Fret not, I've yet to forget the grassy knoll that I once knew In the days before the rocket's roar in the days long past Within dreams I do dwell in the metal shell past the skies of blue And the view of that blue marble someday just might be my last
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May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 10:27 AM UTC
Star Explorer
Your omniscient presence kills. Burrow, Burrow. Deep into my gray, ailing soul. Intuition is a symptom of a failing system I am, I am. A golden statue corossed into air. The livid crowd hurls their stones. Running, Running. Toward the spotless sunlight. With blistering feet and blood shot eyes. Bask, Bask. In the darkness the dead do not fear. The spaceman resides in a field of daffodils. Pondering, Pondering. Their effortless conformity. Extraterrestrial eyes look into me. Turn away, Turn away. To face an orchestra of shrieks. The rope around my neck. Tightens, Tightens. As I step off the wooden platform.
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May 5, 2011
May 5, 2011 at 3:07 PM UTC
You Are the Hangman
Talk to me, talk to me of Old St. Nick Talk to me of Sinterclaus Of Mikulas, Pere Noel, or Babbo Natale Talk to me of candles, christingle and a silent night Talk to me of crackers, carols and calamities Talk to me of snow, sleighs, and stars Talk to me of Christmas cards, wrapping paper Talk to me of gold, old spice and mice Talk to me of icing, icicles igloos, ivy Holly Oh sweet Hollie Tots of Drambuie Marmalade and toast Talk to me of Philip Scholfield Carols From Kings Mary Poppins Scrooge Festive films Radio Times And things that are too pretty Lights, nights Hark, Dark barking dogs tinsel Tinsel Town Wolves at the door Salvation Army playing once more Talk to me Talk to me Cream Crackers, cheese Frosty mornings, old knees Talk to me of snow covered alpine forests Gateaux Cherries walnuts and berries Festive fun, A seasonal run Of All Gold telly With a full belly Farts, sprouts Turkey that tastes just like chicken Oh talk to me of Terry Wogan Rosh Jogan Grogan Josh Last minute deals Black Friday White Friday And all the Cyber Mondays Talk to me of Happy Mondays Dancing Bez In a Festive Fez Talk to me Talk to me Of Festive time Late nights Early mornings Beer Cheer All in entertainment Oh talk, TALK to me Of hangovers, sleep overs gloves mittens and cute kittens Oh talk to me of fake Chanel Faux Fur and underwear Celvin Klein Talk to me , Talk to me of Jonah Lewie Bony M The Pogues and all those rogues Fairy tale of New York Stop the Cavalry Mary's Boy Child And the Spaceman who came riding by Oh talk, Talk , Talk to me of places, and spaces We all know Christmas markets Tesco, Aldi and John Lewis Adverts showing Christmas is coming Christmas is coming Christmas is coming Chris Oh talk to me Oh talk to me of old St. Nick Talk to me Talk to me Eggnog Talk to me Talk to me Bah humbug Talk to me Talk to me Happy Christmas
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Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 4:54 PM UTC
Ode to St. Nick
Talk to me, talk to me of Old St. Nick Talk to me of Sinterclaus Of Mikulas, Pere Noel, or Babbo Natale Talk to me of candles, christingle and a silent night Talk to me of crackers, carols and calamities Talk to me of snow, sleighs, and stars Talk to me of Christmas cards, wrapping paper Talk to me of gold, old spice and mice Talk to me of icing, icicles igloos, ivy Holly Oh sweet Hollie Tots of Drambuie Marmalade and toast Talk to me of Philip Scholfield Carols From Kings Mary Poppins Scrooge Festive films Radio Times And things that are too pretty Lights, nights Hark, Dark barking dogs tinsel Tinsel Town Wolves at the door Salvation Army playing once more Talk to me Talk to me Cream Crackers, cheese Frosty mornings, old knees Talk to me of snow covered alpine forests Gateaux Cherries walnuts and berries Festive fun, A seasonal run Of All Gold telly With a full belly Farts, sprouts Turkey that tastes just like chicken Oh talk to me of Terry Wogan Rosh Jogan Grogan Josh Last minute deals Black Friday White Friday And all the Cyber Mondays Talk to me of Happy Mondays Dancing Bez In a Festive Fez Talk to me Talk to me Of Festive time Late nights Early mornings Beer Cheer All in entertainment Oh talk, TALK to me Of hangovers, sleep overs gloves mittens and cute kittens Oh talk to me of fake Chanel Faux Fur and underwear Celvin Klein Talk to me , Talk to me of Jonah Lewie Bony M The Pogues and all those rogues Fairy tale of New York Stop the Cavalry Mary's Boy Child And the Spaceman who came riding by Oh talk, Talk , Talk to me of places, and spaces We all know Christmas markets Tesco, Aldi and John Lewis Adverts showing Christmas is coming Christmas is coming Christmas is coming Chris Oh talk to me Oh talk to me of old St. Nick Talk to me Talk to me Eggnog Talk to me Talk to me Bah humbug Talk to me Talk to me Happy Christmas
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You sat on the edge of the low wall in Rockingham Street opposite Meadow Row Janice sat beside you in her red beret and black coat buttoned up to her throat against the evening chill and you in your cowboy hat and old coat with your 6 shooter (capped gun) in the inside pocket the sky is thick with stars Janice said looking upward like God threw small diamonds into the black expanse reminds me of the time You said when I was with my old man outside Guy’s Hospital and he left me outside with my sister while he went in to see my mother who was about to have babies and I looked up at the sky that evening and it was like that and it seemed so big and wide and I remember thinking how I could get lost there if I were a spaceman looking out of the spaceship window at the stars and moon and such I could have been with you Janice said and have got you food and drink for the voyage I don’t know You said girls don’t get to go on space voyages do they? I guess not she said sighing but maybe I could be the first to go she added smiling sure you could but not with your red beret You said she laughed and looked up Meadow Row at the street lamps and the glow they made on the pavements and narrow road and she pointed at some kids outside the public house half way up the road and said Gran wouldn’t leave me outside a pub like that while she went drinking you gazed up the road and saw the kids outside one in a pram one sitting on the low wall eating out of a packet of chips my mother said it happened a lot in her days when she was a kid but she never was You said Janice tucked her hands under her armpits to keep them warm against the evening cold I better go she said Gran will wonder where I am ok You said I’ll walk you back and so you both got off the wall and walked up Rockingham Street to where she lived with her gran in an upstairs flat and she blew you a kiss from the balcony and that was pretty much that.
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Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
JANICE AND YOU AND THE EVENING STARS.
You sat on the edge of the low wall in Rockingham Street opposite Meadow Row Janice sat beside you in her red beret and black coat buttoned up to her throat against the evening chill and you in your cowboy hat and old coat with your 6 shooter (capped gun) in the inside pocket the sky is thick with stars Janice said looking upward like God threw small diamonds into the black expanse reminds me of the time You said when I was with my old man outside Guy’s Hospital and he left me outside with my sister while he went in to see my mother who was about to have babies and I looked up at the sky that evening and it was like that and it seemed so big and wide and I remember thinking how I could get lost there if I were a spaceman looking out of the spaceship window at the stars and moon and such I could have been with you Janice said and have got you food and drink for the voyage I don’t know You said girls don’t get to go on space voyages do they? I guess not she said sighing but maybe I could be the first to go she added smiling sure you could but not with your red beret You said she laughed and looked up Meadow Row at the street lamps and the glow they made on the pavements and narrow road and she pointed at some kids outside the public house half way up the road and said Gran wouldn’t leave me outside a pub like that while she went drinking you gazed up the road and saw the kids outside one in a pram one sitting on the low wall eating out of a packet of chips my mother said it happened a lot in her days when she was a kid but she never was You said Janice tucked her hands under her armpits to keep them warm against the evening cold I better go she said Gran will wonder where I am ok You said I’ll walk you back and so you both got off the wall and walked up Rockingham Street to where she lived with her gran in an upstairs flat and she blew you a kiss from the balcony and that was pretty much that.
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