"To the Moon, Alice!"

My dear lies on the couch looking so sad,

crying now for young Mable’s misfortune,

now for old Frank’s confusion. She will not

have done with the world of sorrows, lovers

and twin brothers parading afternoons

on television. The corners of her mouth

crimping when she cries, little white smiles

crinkle the ends of her long eyes.

By the lunar glow of the cathode ray,

Jeannie declares, she’s nobody’s genie!

And the marriage caper we once pulled off

has given her a second thought or two.

I say please, do exactly as you please.

Abandon earth, if you will, for more distant

reaches... You'll never guess what happened

on the way to the moon: at eighty-three

point three percent gravity, Jeanie strikes

the Lotus pose midair, holding her breath

until her face rippled red, white, and blue.

The handsome astronaut on a spacewalk

may well have mistaken her face for a flag—

Alas, we’ll never know for certain why

he raised his space helmet to salute.