On the Arbat

Morning on the Arbat:
news on Radio Moscow
of a space success.
In my childhood’s commotion
a wintry storm has occupied
this young musician and poet
who wants to snow lift
on a whitened skateboard
with a Soyuz rocket
or take a space flight
with his school pals
to galactic skies,
wishing to be a year younger
to hide out with a telescope
in a bespectacled ship
to cover the moon
for Pravda, or the sun,
just for a holiday weekend.

When the cosmos
wakes me up
to cover my red eyes
with moon dust.
I can hover all day
on every planet
or just sideswipe Mars
until other awestruck stars
open all their shadows
to clear the way for a future visionary.