At thirteen
I stood in a line
That wrapped around the block
Anticipation was high
For the show

We ambled into the library
Its walls
Hushed the crowd.
Culture had not yet
Lost its respect
Of quiet spaces

Some fifty feet ahead
A light shone overhead
To light the delight
We all came to see
Necks bent
To catch a glimpse
Before it was our turn
To stand before the great exhibition

After much anticipation
The joy welling up
Like steam from a geyser

There it was
A moon rock
Encased in glass
Gray and dusty
Like the contents
Of a vacuum bag

Turning to my brother
We both looked knowingly
Into each other’s eyes
And without words said,
“That’s it?”

We spent
The mandatory
10-15 seconds
In front of the dirt
Paid our homage
Drove home
And played
Street football

The accomplishment of the moon landing was not lost on us. We knew it to be our greatest achievement as humans. As an adolescent, I guess I was hoping to see a more pragmatic reward for risking and taking human life for such an endeavor. Gold would have done it…..something like that.

Single frame – multiple exposure photograph by me ©2020


  1. Your photography is excellent, Mark. I love the full moon with its mysterious colorful shades around. Your narrative poem is also very well written. You told a beautiful story. Greetings. Marta

    Liked by 1 person

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