If Only There Was a Lost and Found for Brains
I once had a brain but it went MIA above the yondering blue where the space ships cruise in weightlessness. That’s where my brain is — somewhere in space, the final frontier — floating in a vacuum of nothingness.
In space, there is no air or reason to put on airs. Everyone looks the same hermetically sealed inside a suit, if one is lucky enough to afford a suit and fasten their brain into the helmet before it drifts away. You know the one that got away. That’s my brain orbiting over Japan, Qatar then Afghanistan.
Some starched white shirts below may think my brain is a UFO. It’s happened before. We all know about Roswell, but that didn’t end well for the extraterrestrial, a.k.a. weather balloon. They’re easy to confuse when blinded by the light of a desert moon.
Luckily, my brain is stuck in orbit circumventing the earth. Still on course. Not a chance it will plummet through the atmosphere—an ambience of sorts without mahogany wood decor and the scent of brandy wafting from bore to bore.
Out here in space, a glorious scent is benched for a view of the first string team of shooting stars, whooshing by at the speed of light through deepest dark, except for an occasional gaseous substance, a.k.a. the sun spinning on its axis. My brain has no axis to grind, soaring above the third planet from the sun, mistaking particles below for empty souls.
If I could only see, but the fog and red tinted clouds obscure breathtaking views. I find myself pondering what I could have seen lurking beneath the convoluted atmosphere—some good, some bad, some particularly scenic overlooks off the highway.
Perhaps rocks, and grass, fragments of automobiles and shattered glass scattered across the shoulder. I can only imagine what happened to those inside—bones and more bones vibrating against flesh, as the car smashed through a barrier and tumbled around amid shrieks and prayers and what might have beens. It’s sad really. But I don’t have the luxury of pain. My brain says it best. Keep the signals pulsating from one synapses to the next, and I will continue drifting through space, orbiting above the distant place below also known as home.