when chrome was chrome
the meteors cried.
when sputnik winked
and pierced the heart
of cassiopeia,
we sat in the johnson grass
and smelled the sand.
waiting. too late. no beep.
the silver orb had burned up
months before.
we sang:
it was a one-eyed one-horned
flying purple people eater
instead.
chased fireflies.
picked june bugs off the screen door.
spit watermelon seeds at each other.
shrieked.
ran beyond the reach of light.
and stopped.
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