FLYING OLD DAMN IT. Ann-knit.

I'll catch a million stars, and put them in my cheeks, breeks,
sneakers, let their powerful light, fire me up into the air
where gravity is gone, and there I'll dance a little while
and listen to your song,
as sing I know you can, so I'm not wrong.

And then I'll take a comet, and race around the world,
they'll wonder what on earth, in heaven has occurred,
a wild old fashioned lady in long skirts is quite unfurled
and is speeding at the speed of light oh how absurd.

And like a whirling dervish I'll take a ring from Saturn
and spin on it or wear it round my waist,
then I'll take a bar from Mars and intoxicate the stars.
I'd rock in the boat with the man in the moon
my father'd have a fit and my mother she would swoon.

I'd lie if I told you I visited the sun
but on Venus the sky would soon turn pink, think,
on Jupiter joining in its great red spot called Thor,
and storm about like its sixty six bright moons
seeking refuge on Neptune in its blue - moon.

Roll onto Uranus, don't mention it, no don't,
and in Mercury I'll see my face, its hue,
but by now I'll be thinking of coming down to you,
where are you, up there, down under, over there,
I'm all disorientated out here in space.

I'll take my skirt and flourish it in Pluto's face,
his ears will flap enough to give me pace,
and I'll drop down like a clump of planet waste,
on your rose bed I am sure, where I leap up to your door
and cry hurrah, you are there and I am here and there you are.