Conditional Reality

They get born. They grow up. A lot of them are from Ohio, just like a lot of presidents. They get pilot’s licenses. They read about space in science fiction stories. They join the military. They fly planes. Some of them shoot down other planes and drop bombs. Patriotism numbs the horror. They get recruited by NASA. Giant centrifuges try to crush them. Bring it on, they say. Then the ride on a pillar of fire. Deadly environments surround them. They are protected by a thin stretch of metal, barely thicker than aluminum foil. Many of them have no words.

Labels: Astronaut