My big brother envied our limitless galaxy of imaginary constellation prizes. The next day he introduced Bissy and me to his astrospace engineering physician friend, Nevermind. Nevermind and my big brother, for days, weeks; and still at this very moment of inscription, reside beside my Dad's shed in an old tipped over fridge. Bissy and I, two satellites, watch from our earthly canopy, as they wired arterys, veins and capillaries into the cockpit of their space shuttle of memory.
The switchboard pulsed with the jugular LEDs, as electricity was pumped through all the circuit board's circulatory system. At the heart of the vessel, the battery pumped, no valves strained and no resistors resisted.
My big brother had created a ship to sail the universal eternity of space. But there were only two thrones in the cockpit, and this shuttle had no antechamber. My brother and I watched two figures, in airtight armor, fog their bubble helmets with farewells, as Bissy and Nevermind ascended the gangplank threshold of potential.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…
By Stuart Bowden
Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden
Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden
Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden
Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden
Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden
Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden
Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden
Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden Image of Stuart Bowden
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