02.02.03 - 1:01 p.m.

i was five when i watched the challenger explode
standing in barefeet on the linoleum of
our kitchen where my mother had placed the
black and white television she hid in the
linencloset i squeezed my eyes shut and screamed,
covered my ears and she switched it off i spent
the rest of the week staring at the styrofoam
mobile of the solar system that hung from my ceiling
painted in the most realistic colors i could find
reading ray bradbury stories, refantasizing outerspace
until it was too big to imagine or tiny and captive
above my bed i wrote loveletters to sally ride
who responded with an autographed picture i crashed
her physics class went religiously until she showed
up ran after her and said you were my movie
pop star football player singer superman i wrote
you letters my dad worked for nasa, decompression studies
and she smiled sweetly, wryly said huskily
its dangerous to have such mortal superheroes.