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Transceiver
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Columbia
And on the fifth day
we disengage.
Columbia.
And after orbit twelve,
I'm by myself.
Columbia.
Hovering, all alone, 69 miles from the moon,
never once straying from my capsule.
Why can't I touch down, why am I not one of those to go,
let my footpads signal contact like the Eagle down below?
Circling, restlessly, bored as hell in zero-G,
wondering why it's them instead of me.
21 hours straight from the nightside to the day,
knowing that no one will remember my name.
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