Lisa Lerma Weber
I was called a space cadet,
because a question suddenly fell
from the yawning sky of my mouth,
crashing like a meteor
into the conversation at hand—
the alien eyes that turned on me
like giant craters, smoking
and hissing with irritation.
My mind had drifted,
distracted by the distant twinkling
of so many wondrous “whys?”
Starry-eyed, I lost my way
as I floated untethered
through a nebula of curiosity.
I wanted to deny my fitness for NASA.
I wanted to point to my feet to prove
they were firmly planted on the Earth.
But when I looked down,
I couldn’t see through the clouds.