[net.poems] Kirk

syn@uo-vax1.UUCP (syn) (02/19/85)

		Kirk

	Not when he was five
	and for seven heavenly days
	couldn't keep anything down
	but liquids in the Luna Connaught-Hilton
	and floated from one scolding and rescue
	to another
	in delerious fulfillment
	of a dream already
	rubbed shiny 
	as a lucky token.

	Not when he was nine
	and the Kansas constellations
	were troubled with lights
	of cargo shuttles and the
	two white pillars of Jacob's Ladder
	could be seen half a continent away
	while Orion strode nightly over the corn
	balestar burning red at his shoulder
	belt and greaves glittering.

	No, he was eleven, at afternoon tutorial,
	when the computer told him
	what his test scores meant
	and how much he could do if he tried,
	told him, while he was innocent,
	in such a way that he had to try then
	and still is trying
	to keep the dream bright
	and outshine Orion.