Dear Wife on Earth
My companion is a vaguely human creature
when all I want is to be with you.
Thanks for telling me they miss their dad.
But, to be honest, that was too much.
I'm aware our nights together have been few.
But space exploration never will change its habits.
The government expects so much of me.
But they're not blessed with your bewitching face.
And every journey can't help make clear to me
how far away I am from home and hearth.
I don't forget. My dreams won't let me.
Tedium can't stand in the way of memory.
Some guys deny they need their past.
After all this time, they've somehow come to terms,
or blotted it out, or maybe it was never
so special it was to begin with.
I have the photo. It's pressed to my art.
I touch a button wishing it was your cheek.
I solve equations like they're letters from home.
Higher math? I'd rather teach the kids algebra.
If only I could take you in my arms.
But the future won't let me.
It's selfish, wants me for itself,
says I should be satisfied that my family is proud of me.
But there are times I wish they thought me ordinary.
And could brag to their classmates I was home for all time.
But the universe is more out here than back there.
And what goes up has a hard time coming down.
Of course, the darkness is the worst.
So I flick on a light, write in my diary.
Not facts, just feelings. But if I feel them enough,
they're facts before I know it.