Apollo

We pull off to a road shack in Massachusetts to watch men walk on the moon. We did the same thing for three two one blast off, and now we watch the same men bounce in and out of craters. I want a Coke and a hamburger. Because the men are walking on the moon which is now irrefutably not green, not cheese, not a shiny dime floating in a cold blue, the way I'd thought, the road shack people don't notice we are a black family not from there, the way it mostly goes. This talking through static, bounces in space- boots, tethered to cords is much stranger, stranger even than we are.