this april

dear stephen hawkings,

this april or is it june
i hear you are going to space.
uncrumple , sir
without your wheelchair
and float

know weightlessness for me
this earth is grown too heavy
so stay away awhile
like a jecko cling on the walls
of your spaceship

while washing the dishes
i leave the windows open
to gaze up at the stars
and i think of you floating free
somewhere among the stars

i wish i could come too
oh just for a week.
help around with some chores
dust the hubble maybe
hold your hand for space walk

spacecrafts have glass roof, dont they?
drifting off to sleep huddled by galaxies
seems perfect for a holiday.
we could watch the earth from afar
they say she's beautiful from out there

you without your wheelchair
me of deliquent mind
off on a holiday
with stars and floating
and weightless thoughts.