Wandering ground crew members follow
Christmas lights: white, yellow, blue.
A neon sign radiates through
night toward address S. Seventy-two:
The Mothership Connection Flight Hub
where all are welcome and all come
to indulge and groove, oh,
the wooden turntable keeps chanting
such hypnotizing melodies.
Wanderers laugh here, echoes
reverberate into space, a response spreading
throughout the melancholy world beyond the hub,
puffs from mellow mouths,
hopeful little cotton buds
sent up to join the sky crew, to
mix with the vibrations of stars
in constant cosmic flight.