There are passive astronauts, too,
going slowly nowhere on the moon tonight.
I want nothing, but I know
there’s something magic out there that I need
in order to breathe. It’s a darker matter.
It’s a sort of plastic tube that spools from
the heart of my back to
the heart of everything else in this boring universe.
The moon is big enough for lots of us
to walk here and never glimpse each other,
though we do see, on occasion,
familiar bootprints in the ether.