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Bottle Rocket

It's flimsy and clumsy
and epileptically sturdy
Lacking circuit transistors
With 20 inch motors
The paint jobs diminished
Crackling white brim acrylics
And you can see the Coke logo
Embellished beneath the port windows
But none of this matters
Even if the ship scatters
For it's propelled with conviction
Against the Sadisms of Physics


It's an aluminum cadaver
Furbishing two cylinder pillars
With an apple juice cartridge
Bifurcated as the ship's bow
It's got wings to counterbalance
The aerodynamic escaping actions
Though their made of cardboard triangles
They look developed from certain angels
There are a dozen toothpaste caps
Interlinked through the silver stern
Which boost it up to outer space
Connecting me to angel in turns

I'll be a thousand light years off
While still inside the french courtyard
Looking left at Bernard's Star
Across the voluminous parking lot
Peripatetically motioning
Towards the gemstones of Andromeda
Engaging zigzagging quasars
Under succulent Milky Way Bar
Caressing the navigation
Towards the strangest of destinations
Jungles of steel, skies of flying whales
Found under ellipses of oneway lenses


Bottle Rockets float
Under Surreal Gravity,
upside down my sanity
This is a fantastic disaster
But it doesen't anti-matter
Because it my bottle rocket
I'm an aggrandized Agnostic

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