Jun-Jun and Quisty used to live on a tree-stump in Montréal.
One day, they lifted themselves out into the three-dimensional world.
1
Q: Be flexible– Disney’s demand.
JJ: But we’re two dimensional!
Q: Exactly. We can shift without a moan
JJ: and move without a tick,
Q: like Dali’s drooping watches.
JJ: What for? Who for?
Q: Pixar’s gonna send us to the moon.
JJ: I’m already feeling sick.
Q: It’s a ride, silly!
“Circle the Moon”
from Orlando.
Anybody can go.
Any old rando.
2
Q: Like melting Camembert,
JJ: we’ll smear ourselves on the control pod.
Q: Our thoughts will guide the ride,
JJ: turn with a flick
of our little hands,
Q: give off a faked fearful groan
for paying guests,
JJ: slow down Time’s flow,
like flopping clocks.
Q: From the gray moon
we watch earth-rise,
a little blue marble spaceship
lit by gazillions of cut-out stars
JJ: as we gape at the solar eclipse
from our zero-g seats.
3
Q: Pop! three parachutes.
Plop! hit the ocean.
JJ: Helicopters whir in the nick
of NASA time,
pluck us from our bouncing capsule.
Q: Landing shots stream
directly to their phones,
sell the persistence of memory.
JJ: Their biometrics flutter.
Just a little pin-prick:
there’ll be no more pain.
Q: Relief sent with a bone-scan.
JJ: Curated post-flight trainers
Q: restore their muscle mass
droopy sex drives,
all linked to the card
on their Moon Pass.
One big terran-lunar subscription zone.
JJ: Sounds intrusive…
Q: Only if you think
you still have a private life
worth a lick.
JJ: We’re never alone…
Q: I miss our tree stump.
