I’ve never felt in control of my life.
So unlike Will Robinson, who walks alone
confident in the dark, navigating rocks

jutting up from soil like jagged giants.
Will moves without tripping, welcomes
vast rivers blocking his way, ahead

where his cleverness already owns solutions
unfolding from his brain, his small frame
skedaddling before the enormous painted

draperies of a B&W planet. Chalk light drowns
on slate grass. Black-glass insects ooze
on skin-black leaves. Undaunted, Will squeezes

his walkie-talkie, hailing Alpha Control.
As if we could call out waiting light years
for an answer to find its vast way back

between the vacuum and the stars
for what is control but the hand’s reaching
out, manipulating, from the rotation

and twisting wheels of the shoulder
the things we love and hate that sit before us
when there’s no one there to tell us how?

copyright © 2015 Kurt Lovelace All Rights Reserved

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