It rained most
of that week
So we
couldn’t see it anyway
with the naked eye
And the
grainy TV imagery
and the muffled voices
From a
quarter million miles away
This orbed
story seeming so alien 
to my lifeguard lifestyle
and the big concert 
Coming up in
a couple weeks
over in New York State
Or that
moony girl
who kept draping herself
         on
my white guard stand,
Recalling
that when Apollo was announced
We believed
what the President said
before Vietnam
And
Watergate and stagflation
Opened a continental
latrine trench
Between the
government
and the people,
Nearly failing
to mention that this was only
another Frontier story 
another land grab
Of empty
spaces occupied by nothing
or mere heathens thus
Ripe for that
special Christian rapacity
         forgiven in advance 
for bringing the Word 
to the wilderness,
Awakening
too late to the bitterly plain
         truth that that savage
wisdom is what we needed
All along to
keep this singular
blue pearl 
From becoming
a charcoal-dusted
cratered place
Where a
white man’s bootprint
lasts a million years.
          © Bill Prindle, 2019
|  | 
| Apollo 11 bootprint, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons | 
Powerful poem!!! Wonderful word sounds! Love it!
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