Your Subtitle textCan my son be compared to Jules Verne?
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It happens without warning throughout the day 1
Joe’s eyes would blink shut and just... stay that way.
Control of his eyelids the sandman would seize
Putting ol’ Joe in the land of the ZZZZs.
It’s a tiresome game - this worn-out old rut -
Joe’s eyes plan to moisten, but simply blink shut.
Now what could cause Joe to fall asleep in a second?
“Just lack of a liquid” is what ol’ Joe’d reckoned.
Sick of an eyelid that so often sticks
Joe makes a plan for a black liquid fix.
“I’ll oil the problem with one cup per hour
Of the juice from the black bean with great caffeine power.”
A stop into Starbucks began Joe’s new quest
To end all the sudden, unwanted rest.
But with Grande and Venti, and Soy, and Half-Caf
The place was confusing, the price was a laugh.
With one cup in hand - filled with whatever - 5
His wallet depleted by this great endeavor,
Four bucks a cup was just too much to spend
For an hourly dose - unlikely to end.
One hour later, Joe tried a new tactic.
The next cup he got lacked acid of lactic.
Simplified choices, no sugar, no milk
The price he was charged would now lack such a bilk.
Six hours later, with eyelids erect,
Joe’s therapy gave the desired effect.
Spontaneous naps seem a thing of the past.
With hourly dosage, it surely would last.
But could Joe maintain such long-term odd therapy
Given that this means e’vry day he would be
Looking for coffee every hour to drink
To prevent frozen eyelids at the point of mid-blink?
Though Starbucks is now a shop Joe will walk by,
The cost of his therapy still is sky-high.
From this routine of drink, Joe will not walk,
But it’s time now for Joe to buy joe by the bulk.
First it’s just one shelf in Joe’s kitchen pantry 10
But soon he needs more space, for Joe really can’t see
An end to the space that’s required to keep
All the coffee that’s needed - to keep Joe from sleep.
Now toss the bread, and then throw out the porridge -
Gotta make more room for java bean storage.
There’s little food left now, but that’s not enough.
Still need more room for that ground caffeine stuff.
Just one shelf is left that’s not graced by the bean -
The shelf where the old stale Rice Krispies are seen.
Pour the loud grain from the shelf at the top
To a bowl topped with coffee for “Snap, Krackle, Pop!”
Though coffee now occupies every square inch
It soon will be gone - all gone in a cinch.
Time to scrap produce, the juice, milk and eggs
For space in the fridge now the coffee bean begs.
Now even the freezer keeps java on ice
In place of stored dinners, mint ice cream or rice.
No groceries at all, for the food Joe’s been pitchin’
Now there’s nothing but coffee beans stored in Joe’s kitchen.
Still, the stored java is just one day’s load 15
Time to store more joe throughout Joe’s abode.
Move all the tools, and the broken down Ford,
The garage is the place for the beans to be stored.
With such massive storage of beans in his home,
Three times per week to the stores Joe would roam
Searching for coffee to refill his stock
Before he’d run dry and might go into shock.
A little while into this caffeine routine
Joe was sole witness to an unusual scene.
One night real late (is it such a surprise?)
Joe was still up - just hours til sunrise.
With the rest of Joe’s neighborhood soundly asleep
Bright lights blinked boldly and without a peep
In the sky above Joe’s home where JUST Joe would see
An unlikely spacecraft bump into a tree.
The once-smooth flight quickly turned odd and erratic
Like a flight from a novice with no automatic
Pilot to guide how the spacecraft would fly
In transition from land to the air and the sky.
Far worse than this it’ll surely be found, 20
Is transition from space to the air and the ground
Where a crash will be clear in the light of the Sun
And surely would end up at site 51.
The silent-flight spacecraft now made a great racket.
It bounced off the tree tops, and branches would smack it
And knock it off-course, for a landing unplanned.
With a boom and a crash, the spacecraft would land.
Joe hopped in the Ford that he just had repaired
To chase what just landed with trees all ensnared.
He knew that to find it, he surely must hustle
Before all his neighbors awoke from the rustle.
In the shortest of time, Joe found where it landed
As if he was guided by an invisible hand, It
was dented and dinged, and scratched up for sure -
But the stairs were extended that led to the door.
Would there be someone... some...thing inside?
A being of some kind to pilot this ride?
If I entered the craft would I then need to run
From a little green man with a deadly ray gun?
Or maybe some other strange alien creature 25
With a frightening power or other weird feature
Would jump at the chance to make me a meal
While he laughed at my plight through a loud Martian squeal.
Perhaps there’s a creature with skills telepathic
With three brains installed to perform a great hat trick
Of melting my eyeballs to prove his command
And refilling my sockets with green Martian sand.
Or an alien zombie - my head he would splatter
To access the food of my human gray matter -
The substance he needs to sustain living dead
At the cost of my life through the crack of my head.
I’ll take the chance of potential great dangers
In meeting such extraterrestrial strangers
The thrill of what’s in there is all too consuming
It dampens the fear of the risk that is looming.
It may be the alien needs some assistance
A helpful first contact from quite a long distance
Could start a new friendship among our two races
And help all mankind to visit new places.
Would he offer his friendship and advance human knowledge 30
Thus making an Einstein just too dumb for college...
Or feast on my brain to make himself fatter?
I’ll pray for the former and not for the latter.
As I start up these steps to soon see what’s inside,
I can’t help but fear with each step in my stride -
The scariest scenes seen in my mind’s eyes
Turn real in a flash, bringing on my demise.
And now as the top of these steps reach so near
In a mix of excitement, shock, awe and fear,
My nerves all a jitter, my heart pounding quicker
I’d trade all my coffee for a thimble of liquor.
But hold the nerves steady. Strengthen resolve!
As I enter the craft, it’ll surely take all of
The courage I have - and then a lot more
As I put my foot forward and walk through the door.
Wow.... What a sight.
It’s one to behold.
Blinding bright silver
With buttons of gold.
Dials and knobs wherever you look. 35
Rainbow lights blinking in every small nook.
Instrument panels reporting condition -
Giving the stats of this mis-hap’d space mission.
Incessant lights flashing - on and off without end
As they get no response to the message they send.
Displays to monitor every ship system
With no pilot around to say that he’d fixed ‘em.
Little screens pinging such quiet alerts -
Synergistically offer a din that asserts
A true sense of urgency I can’t quite explain.
I must plug my ears if I’m gonna stay sane!
With fingers in ears, I sing out quite loud
Trying to drown out this loud buzzing crowd.
This childish tactic is no real solution,
But it lessens the pressure from great noise pollution.
This gave me a moment to hear myself think
A moment that passed by in barely a blink
As a new buzz then sounded above all the rest
And put my composure to a new test.
Could this be the reason the pilot has fled? 40
This uber-alarm warned he soon would be dead
As explosives on board that are so deeply tucked
Soon would go off in an auto-destruct?
Ah! Wait a minute. Don’t jump to conclusions.
My mind’s all a flutter with mental illusions.
Seek out the screen that explains this alarm
And calm my worst fears - or try to disarm.
First, to seek out the source of the sound,
I’ll search the ship’s systems until it is found.
I’ll start where I am, and then move where I’m not.
Just a matter of time til I pinpoint the spot.
But now that the hunt for this sound has begun,
This very loud noise is suddenly done.
A strange disappearance for an alarm so absurd
Yet, the drones of the rest once again can be heard.
Now how to determine the risk that’s involved
When the big alarm quit before it’s all solved?
There’s still all the noise from alarms sounded prior
But its hard to glean much from this dissonant choir.
Frustration was rising and nearly took hold 45
‘Til the alpha alarm screamed again loud and bold.
This time I found its source in a flash
And it gave explanation for why it did crash.
The largest display blinked in sync with the buzz,
And showed without doubt what the whole problem was.
Now this one is funny, so get yourself seated.
The cause for alarm? - The fuel was depleted.
Now knowing the trouble was something so simple
It gave me a smile - and showed off my dimple.
The next task at hand, with my mind now at ease,
Is to search the ship’s console, and hunt down the keys.
In barely a moment, I finished that task
And rewarded myself with a gulp from my flask.
No whiskey, no bourbon, or other hard ale
Just hour-old coffee that tasted so stale.
With my caffeine consumption - (the dosage renewed) -
Giving a boost to my bold attitude,
I turned the key quickly to change its position
And with that short stroke - turned off the ignition.
The ship was now silent. Not a peep did it utter. 50
The engine was quiet. Not even a sputter.
No lights blinking boldly, or monitors flashing
With residual warning of a ship that is crashing.
Just motionless calm..... simple as that
Like my old Ford, this spaceship now sat.
And just like my Ford brought back from the dead,
I’ll make this ship fly before hitting my bed.
With no pink slip, IDs, or pilot around,
I’m gonna keep this spaceship I found.
I’ll hook it in tow, and haul it back home
Get it to fly, and the skies I will roam.
Now, hooking that craft to my Ford’ll be tough.
It’ll take some real doing, but I’m feelin’ quite buff,
So I pushed and I pulled. - Then I slipped in the mud.
And I fell on my rear with a mighty big thud!
My head hit the hood of my born-again truck
Whose radio tuner is hopelessly stuck
On one FM channel all night and all day
With Capt. Jim calling the sports play-by-play.
My radio volume has a sensitive dial 55
It does a strange thing every once in a while.
With barely a breeze, the volume will flare
Announcing live sports in a deafening blare.
This was the case as my head hit the hood.
The volume jumped up from the place where it stood -
Not at the comfortable volume of three,
But it jumped to eleven - the highest to be.
To turn it back down takes a sensitive touch.
Most attempts never accomplish that much.
The power knob’s missing. I can’t turn it off,
So I pray for a whisper in covering golf.
Now once in a while I may blurt out some scores
And pepper my speech with some sports metaphors.
Such tangential verbiage may seem a distraction,
But this, I assure you, won’t hinder my action.
So with this loud volume, I now cannot fiddle.
I’ve got little time now to tend to this riddle
Of how to get home with this spaceship unseen...
...And with a grand slam, O’s score seventeen!
Now my slip in the mud is no toss of the towel. 60
I’m far from struck out - it’s barely a foul.
I try once again, the spaceship to budge
But wind up instead, back down in the sludge.
Get up! Try again. Wrap it with rope.
Tie the rope ends to the truck and then hope
The HEMI on board is sufficiently strong
To tow this ship home without taking too long.
The rope’s all secure now with with one heavy load.
Anxiously waiting to get on the road,
I hopped in the cab and I closed the door tight,
I took a deep breath, then my lip I did bite.
I sat at the wheel of this once-silent truck,
And revved the Ford twice, for hope and good luck.
Will the rope hold? If so, we will see,
As I throw it in gear, on the quick count of three.
Like an army of zombies, on chalkboard, nails scratching,
And three thousand baby Godzilla eggs hatching,
The roar of the Ford was quite loud and intense
Like a fury of fire in dragon’s defense.
Wheels spinning quickly on ground that’s so tender, 65
Spraying out mud like a huge topless blender
Covers the craft with such thick liquid soil,
It no longer looks like aluminum foil.
With RPMs cyclin’ way out of control,
Such strain on the engine is taking its toll.
The hood is now coughing up thick dirty smoke -
Continue like this, she again will be broke.
Despite all the strain of this real intense action,
The wheels are just spinning, and can’t get the traction
They need to move forward to get the job done...
...At least before East shows the rise of the Sun.
Though I am giving it all that I’ve got,
The task is quite tough - but to fail - I will not!
I’m still up at bat. I won’t strike out now.
I’ll get this craft home - someway or somehow.
I simply refuse to give in to frustration.
I take a deep breath - and seek true inspiration.
Ah-ha! The cups lying all over the floor
Could be the solution if thrown out the door.
My tires touch mud and they constantly slip. 70
Get cups in between, and there’s something to grip.
Useful for more than the coffee they held,
These cups offer hope, as with mud, they will meld.
My truck engine’s smokin’ - she’s ready to blow.
So fast out the window these coffee cups go.
Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six.
I hope that this works, ‘cause I have no more tricks.
Right out the window these coffee cups fly.
Pop fly! You’re out! Bring on the next guy.
Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two. Ah!
I’m now out of cups. I’ll toss my left shoe.
My sacrificed footwear appeased friction gods
As styrofoam piles defeated the odds
When my shoe hit that pile of styrofoam trash
A wheel grabbed the mass, and we launched in a dash!
The most violent ride from a coaster of wood
Would seem to be tame if by this ride it stood
Where the launch from my shoe and the coffee cups used,
Rattled my brain, and left body abused.
As far as the rope - it held up just fine 75
Dragging in tow that new spacecraft of mine,
But the mud-covered craft was still taking more hits
As it banged, scraped, and dragged, and gave asphalt new pits.
The noise was insane as I went down the street -
Random sparks flying from friction and heat
Where the craft bounced around like an empty tin can
Announcing a newlywed’s honeymoon plan.
A noise loud enough to awaken the dead -
Amazingly, no one arose from their bed.
So far I’m unspotted. I must get home soon,
For the light of the Sun will soon outshine the Moon.
Teeth clenching, eyes wincing, at e’vry inch driven -
The sound of destruction is all but a given
Inevitable outcome of being so hurried
While towing such cargo - with damage - I’m worried.
It’s now all or nothing - win big or lose.
So full steam ahead before I’m on the news.
Pedal to metal - ignore the destruction!
Just get this ship home, and hope it will function.
With RPMs screamin’ now way off the chart, 80
And worries the spacecraft is falling apart,
I let out a scream from way deep down inside -
- A primal release that’d give Genghis great pride.
And though I know THIS plan of such rapid travel
Draws more attention, and tears up more gravel,
It’s much like a band-aid on skin full of hair
Where short screams are heard when skin’s quickly ripped bare -
The moment of pain may be one that feels strong,
But the worst of the torment you will not prolong -
As the pain felt upfront’s but a small pre-paid toll
That ends the ordeal - which is the whole goal.
The sting soon subsides and leaves barely a trace
Which natural forces then seek to erase.
In the case of the band-aid, the hair is re-grown.
In this situation, it’s still an unknown.
I’m sure the paint finish will barely remain
Where spacecraft is scraping the road with such strain.
The band-aid resemblance - I hope will hold true -
Making paint job akin to the hair that re-grew.
Damage, I fear, may be greater than this... 85
And though such potential I cannot dismiss,
I’m praying that paint is the sole thing destroyed
So that soon my new ship can be fully enjoyed.
The ship’s underbelly, I just might repaint
But lack of such beauty is no real complaint
If I get my ship home now without interference,
I will not bemoan loss of color adherence.
So as my strained Ford screams at maximum speed,
Past speed limit signs that I simply don’t heed,
I soon fly awry with an unforeseen jump
As I hit with great speed, a speed limit bump.
The ‘ol Ford survived this dumb Duke boys-like stunt
And landed with force as I let out a grunt,
But before I could grasp for my very next breath,
The ship took its turn with this speed bump of death.
The obstacle sent the ship flipping in air
Snapping the rope - while I wondered where
The ship would touch down in its second crash course -
And would it hit me with a dangerous force?
I seek the trajectory of my new ship 90
Since I lost it from view after just its first flip.
The mirror now offers no help in the matter.
I worry the ship may soon make my Ford flatter.
With forward momentum, she spins overhead -
Soon to come down to the ground but instead
Of waiting to see just where she will land,
Out of the window, my neck I expand.
Hoping to find out where X marks the spot,
And then fix my speed so to be there - I’m not -
Before I can even turn eyes up to search,
She lands on the truck in a fairly odd perch.
Actually... that's a real poor choice of words.
To put it in language that may evoke birds
Would seem to imply a landing quite gentle.
In fact, I wish that my Ford was a rental -
For the landing did crunch the truck’s body somewhat...
And the quick downward force gave the road a new rut
But our forward inertia, though slowed, did not stall -
I continued toward home, with the Ford, ship and all.
The ‘ol rearview mirror again came in play - 95
Showing the ship did not let the mud stay.
The second crash landing had knocked the ship clean
And again it showed off it’s bright silvery sheen.
You’d think I’d be happy the mud is now gone
But the fall of the mud at the rise of the dawn
Shows a view of true colors that has me concerned
For it may take away this great prize I have earned.
If anyone else were to spot my new ship,
Then talk to some others and let the fact slip...
Well... the news of my new toy would go forth and back
'Til a knock at my door reveals two Men In Black.
This is why now I’m at such a high risk
Of losing my grounded, new-found flying disk.
I’ve been through too much to not keep my new ship
It must remain secret - one never to slip.
Now, the dark of the night hides a ship fairly well -
Even better with mud as an impromptu shell,
But clear the mud free, the ship’s skin to expose -
And with light of the Moon, the ship just barely shows.
This is the point that I’m facing right now 100
But the clock’s running out, so now let me say how
With the Moon and the Sun about to change shift,
The Sun will now GLOW my new alien gift.
So my rush to get home’s more important than ever
If I’m to succeed in this wild endeavor -
For my ship is more obvious every few seconds
With rise of the Sun - as early dawn beckons.
With Sun on our trail, (though our lead may be vast)
The Sun will prevail, as its catching up fast.
The Ford’s fully floored, giving nasty emission,
But I’ve faith in my Ford, to complete this great mission.
Ten blocks to go and the town’s still asleep.
Nine blocks are left - still this secret I keep.
But as eight blocks remain, lawn sprinklers arise
And threaten to wetten this cargo that flies.
We made it past sprinklers not noticed at all
When the one designated, then hit a foul ball!
So far I’ve been lucky wherever I drove ‘er,
But though I’m so close, it could soon be game over.
As seven blocks make up the final home stretch 105
In getting home safely this ship I did fetch,
Ahead I saw something I just did not like-
The paperboy tossing the news from his bike.
He just threw my paper (wedged into the bush)
Entranced by his iPod, ignoring the whoosh
Of the aimless and blind pitch he wildly threw -
Utterly blind - as if without a clue.
I’m glad to announce that his daze is complete -
He’s yet to look up and view right down the street.
But he’s headed right for me - so far unaware -
And to KEEP me unseen, I must now drive elsewhere.
Unless I change course, news will fly up the chain -
From paperboy’s eyes to reporter’s domain
Where in less than the span of just 24 hours,
Headlines will sprout as my story soon flowers.
So I make a right turn to go down the next lane
Hoping, again, a clear path to attain.
Yet once I had turned down this alternate road,
I realized my chances would further erode.
Up to this point, homes were not packed so dense. 110
Most had huge lawns cased in white picket fence.
So far, with few homes, I saw no one rousing
But this round-the-block detour goes past public housing.
Where lack of long lawns leave the homes less discreet
As the front doors are merely three feet from the street.
So there’s not just far more folks within one town block -
The noise of my passing’d be an echoing knock.
But now there’s no choice as the turn has been made -
We’ll soon be displayed in this one-float parade.
I hope turning here was no major mistake.
I only can pray that no neighbor will wake.
Now this is amazing. A miracle true -
We were unseen on this street we blew through.
By the time I turned left no one there got a peek.
News of my new ship, for now, did not leak.
But the sky is now quickly transforming its view
From a dark purple hue to a brightening blue.
So I drive down this lane at a dizzying speed -
Too fast to keep the control that I need.
A fact I find out as I turn left again 115
While the brakes only screech as they lock - and that's when
The king of all potholes now makes matters worse
As the hole in the ground and momentum coerce
To ensure that an impact is immanent now
For into the lamppost I’m now bound to plow
As my Ford’s tossed about - now out of control
It would have flipped over if not for that pole.
My airborne rotation momentum - it stopped.
As my ship from its perch was so forcefully popped.
Both are results of the pole meeting truck.
It looks like game over. I’m all out of luck.
My ship launching forward and up in the sky
While I sit here and cry a reluctant goodbye
To the find of a lifetime - now lost just like that...
...And that big nasty pothole just gave me a flat.
I sit here quite stunned in a deep sense of shock
Trying to cope with the loss and take stock
Of reality staring me hard in the face -
I won’t get to fly into deep outer space.
With great disappointment, I give up the ship 120
Knowing that real soon she’ll end her short trip
And crash land again at some new unknown sight
And that’s THREE times today that she’s had a short flight.
There’s no fixing this one. I may as well go.
The fate of my ship - now I may never know.
I’ll just count my losses and swallow my pride -
Ignore that I lost my new alien ride.
After assessment, if I can afford,
I’ll fix tonight’s damage to my abused Ford.
But despite all the havoc, there’s one plus I see -
The radio’s back to the volume of three.
The engine’s still runnin’, the smoke minimized.
The stress on the engine’s been greatly downsized
But the body looks rough like a crinkled tin can.
Frankly, to this point I’m shocked that it ran.
But what else is damaged beyond outward beauty?
Is my old Ford still up to the duty?
Will energy burning still transfer to tires
As power from gas the engine acquires?
Soon we will see as I put it in gear 125
And try to drive home - a mere six blocks from here.
Give it a shot. Put the gearshift in drive.
Hope the transmission will still be alive.
Gear indicator now pointing to “D”,
I hit the gas pedal - hoping to see
My truck still respond with strong forward motion.
Instead, she just revs as she scoffs at that notion.
Now I must ask. Is the transmission toast?
Will my truck always be bound to this post?
What if I try to drive in a gear lower?
Would that get me home - just a little bit slower?
First gear’s a no-go, so now try one more.
THAT gear’s as dead as the others before.
All that remains is just one gear untried
As all of the others now seem to be fried.
Now try reverse and see if IT fails
Put it to “R” and then hope that she sails.
It works! I’ve got movement! I can get home.
Though funny I’ll look as backwards I roam.
So now as I separate Ford from the pole 130
And turn the wheel hard to face tailgate to goal,
I’ll change how I process my visual cues
For what I see forward, I now cannot use.
Windshield ignored, now mirrors take lead
In feeding my eyes the info they need.
I just hope my brain does not get too confused
And thus make it home safely - intact and unbruised.
For the rest of the block, its a simple straight shot
But then comes a turn - which is something I’m not
So excited to see as my skills in reverse
Are something so bad that they couldn’t be worse.
Steering by inverse direction while straight
Is scary enough, but the need to rotate
The wheel while I back up is cause for concern
As I’m not all that sure I won’t make a wrong turn.
With first intersection just mere feet away,
I hope I’ll turn right and not go the wrong way.
The moment of truth. Here comes the test.
A right turn? a wrong turn? or straight to go west?
It doesn’t feel right to turn left at the light. 135
Instinct and habit put up a good fight,
But decades of driving I quickly unlearn
As I turn the wheel left here and make the right turn.
I made the turn fine without hitting the brakes.
In fact, I did perfect - with zero mistakes.
So don’t look at ME when I tell you this glitch.
I’m not to blame for his flip in the ditch.
He had the stop sign - I none at all.
His failure to see that’s what caused his great fall.
When you have a stop sign, you stop at the line.
The fault was all his - completely not mine.
No lights, no signs, no stop, slow or yield -
No reason my innocence could be appealed.
But still, I’m involved, and that makes me real mad -
This stupid mishap could still turn out quite bad.
Exactly what happened to turn this turn odd?
The paperboy happened - with bike and iPod.
Completely oblivious, ignoring the road
He went through the stop sign and leaped like a toad
As he hit my front bumper, (my turn nearly done) 140
Papers went flying, his bicycle spun
Up and way over, thus launching him south
As a stream of bad words spewed forth from my mouth.
I realize my anger is way out of place -
In fact, my manner’s a total disgrace.
I’ll end right now, my poor attitude -
I’ll stop the truck here and go check on that dude.
I tap on my brakes - expecting to slow
But lo and behold, I continued to go.
I hit the brakes harder, but to no avail
Each time I tried them, my truck brakes would fail.
Now that I’m trying to do the right thing
I can’t stop to help the dumb blind ding-a-ling.
I know lack of brakes should get all of my thought
But the paperboy’s status is something I sought
So my eyesight reverts to the way that it was
As I focus through windshield simply because
I have to see if he’s seriously hurt
Before my own danger I try to divert.
Just enough time to get in a good look 145
And see the results of the tumble he took.
He and his iPod skipped not one beat
As earphones sent music to his dancing feet.
Ah! Back to the mirror. Forget the windshield!
Concentrate on my rear visual field.
A tree on the sidewalk I just nearly hit,
As I focused not backwards, but on that dumb twit!
His bike may be broken, his jeans full of dirt
But the boy on the bike with the paper’s not hurt.
That relieves one thing that weighs on my mind
But the other is what did I miss from behind.
Coming so near the tree was a close call
But I missed by an inch and its still standing tall.
I can’t say for sure that’s my only near miss -
The truth is obscure, and ignorance... bliss.
In the brief moment I checked on that dunce
I took eyes off the road. I did this just once.
I looked NOT where I went, but watched where I came from
Steering the wheel as if driven by rum.
But now that I know that that boy is OK, 150
I’ll watch where I’m going the rest of the way.
The last couple blocks were all incident free
And I backed in my driveway at six-fifty-three.
This great excursion has left quite a mark.
My truck has 2 gears now - reverse and then park.
Done driving backwards, throw gearshift to “P”
Then in a hurry, to bathroom I flee.
Feeling relief, the pressure is gone
My caffeine is low, I give a great yawn.
Grind tons of beans for to brew a new pot
My next cup of joe will be strong, fresh and hot.
Eight minutes later I took the first drink
My energy levels would no longer sink
As caffeine kicked in and it gave a great boost
I drank all I could of those beans I just juiced.
Now with my energy greatly renewed
(As I downed the whole pot of the coffee I brewed)
It’s time to take stock of that glorious bean
And ensure that no empty shelves can be seen.
Three times a week kitchen shelves I restock 155
With beans from garage to ensure there’s no shock
Of reaching for beans that I thought should be there
And finding the kitchen is thoroughly bare.
I find freezer and fridge fully filled to the brim
But four shelves in pantry were looking quite slim.
Three cupboards dry, and two jars quite clear,
I go to garage to bring more beans back here.
Grab the wheelbarrow, go out the side door
For a short trek to gather up many beans more.
In only two steps I got one great surprise
As up through garage roof I saw a dome rise!
Now I don’t always notice each this thing or that
But I can’t recall that roof as other than flat
So I drop the wheelbarrow and go in to inspect
This half-circle tumor my garage did erect.
I entered garage with the greatest of glee
As the dome on the roof was a grand sight to see-
Not architecture that’s now self-evolved -
The riddle of where my ship is - is now solved!
I had planned soon to tune into the news 160
To see if its found - that ship I did lose
When that last pothole made my ship fast disappear
But with perfect trajectory, it sent my ship here!
The ship used my roof as a mock landing pad
And it gave the roof all the inertia it had.
The roof did submit and it let the ship through
But the ship landed soft on stacked beans I’d soon brew
Now from the outside my roof looks quite fancy
For from the outside view you really just can’t see
The dome is not part of the structure that stands
But belongs to a spaceship that always crash lands.
This miracle landing that brought my ship home
Makes it hide in plain sight as it shows off its dome.
A near-perfect cover while I seek the fuel
So it no longer sits like a big stubborn mule.
I don’t really know what would quench the ship’s thirst
But I’ll start with a guess and try gasoline first.
I siphon the tank of my truck with one gear
Then carry that gas from down there to up here.
Now that the tank of the ship has some gas 165
Will it fly or need fuel of a whole different class?
I hop back inside and then turn the key quick
With fingers crossed tight I hope this does the trick.
Alarms all went off with cacophonous sound
But the engines stayed silent, still gravity-bound.
The problem of low fuel I’d hoped would now end,
But the dashboard now reads “incompatible blend”.
There are so many fuels - each one I must try
To see which one powers my ship to the sky.
I’ll write down a list on my rarely used easel.
With gas a big failure, the list starts with diesel.
First, to the truck, the gas I return
Then off to buy diesel and hope it’ll burn
In the tank of my spaceship, and power my flight
Then fly more reli’bly than Ben Franklin’s kite.
Now as the diesel stands ready to burn,
It’s value for flight I’m quite anxious to learn
I take a deep breath as I stand with great hope -
Will it work?... Can I fly?... Once again... nope.
So - diesel and gas - both a big zip 170
One fuel or other’ll soon power my trip
Kerosene, jet fuel and corn ethanol
Sooner or later, I’m tryin’ ‘em all.
The fuels more exotic as list does progress
The first bunch quite common, the others quite less
But gas station, mountaintop, even Earth’s core
I’ll go where I need to to get ‘er to soar.
With diesel a wash, and the tank again clean,
I’m on to the next fuel. It’s called kerosene.
A couple of gallons I pour in the tank
With the turn of the key, my hopes again sank.
Again grab the siphon - make the tank dry
Preparing the ship for the next fuel to try.
Once I completed this repeated task,
I refueled my mouth from my caffeine-filled flask.
But standing atop this odd mountain of beans -
My footing unbalanced - my posture - it leans,
I lost full control of the flask in my hand,
And in the ship’s tank, some coffee did land.
What happened next I can’t fully explain 175
It doesn’t make sense and it seems quite insane
But I swear that the ship gave a sigh of relief
A soft, subtle sound that defies all belief.
I’m not even sure that it was real sound
But I know that it came from this ship that I found.
The moment that java drop entered the tank
(I know it sounds crazy) - it gave a great thank...
Not in inanimate linguistic voice,
But in a way far more abstract, it told me its choice
Of the fuels that I tried, it would not burn a one,
But the joe that I drink, it would burn like the sun.
Though its preference for coffee it made crystal clear,
I don’t know just how what it said, I could hear.
I’m not even sure its not all in my head,
But there’s no doubt at all that its what the ship said.
So you can guess now the next test I have planned -
Try coffee for fuel to fly high above land.
But does the ship (like me) need liquid extract?
Or could the ship fly with the whole bean intact?
Though this is a detail I could not discern, 180
Through empirical method, the answer I’ll learn.
I picked up the first bean I saw by my toe,
And in the ship’s tank, this whole bean I did throw.
I sat really quiet... just trying to listen...
But if it was talking, its voice I was missin’.
So hoping for something dramatic to see,
I tossed in more beans til I hit fifty-three.
Nothing did happen. The ship remained quiet.
Still... I turned the key hoping that now I could fly it.
Reaction exactly as earlier tries -
Motionless, on hill of beans the ship lies.
Now I must get the beans (fifty-three) back.
The siphon won’t work for this - grab the shop-vac.
Suck the beans out, the tank’s empty once more.
Time to get next fuel all ready to pour.
Brew up two pots - one for ship, one for me
Who gets the most boost from this juice we will see
And if coffee will truly fuel all the ship’s trips
Will she drink like a fish, or need only just sips?
I know that MY lift may last less than an hour... 185
Or... linger a little, not losing ALL power,
But will the ship benefit more than I do
Deriving its power from coffee bean brew?
Ah! Both pots are done, we’re both ready to drink
And unless there’s some other obstruction or kink,
I expect to be putting my ship to the test
And reap all the fruits of this coffee-fueled quest.
So if the ship really takes coffee to burn,
It may be some time now before I return.
But before I go take my ship out for a run,
I must take care of business (I mean go number one).
With a sigh of relief, Mother Nature appeased,
I’m hoping this coffee will leave us both pleased,
But before we test if coffee truly is king,
A couple of things that I think I should bring:
Just to be safe, add a bucket of beans,
And a portable grinder to give me the means
Of making my own fuel in case I get stuck -
‘Cause wherever I fly now, I won’t have my truck.
But of course these supplies would do no good unless 190
I also supplied a good French coffee press
And the means of then getting the caffeine to flow
So I also must bring bottled clean H2O.
Add one pot of joe that I bring just for me
So my buzz will not end as I fly high and free.
Then once I had gathered all this gear on board,
Into the ship’s tank, it’s coffee I poured.
Then I peeked in the tank as a general query
And saw Sir Isaac Newton reduced to just theory
As I quick dropped my jaw at the sight that I saw
For gravity seemed to defy Newton’s law.
Sure, the coffee had formed in a nice little pool -
Just a brief-lived conformity mocking the rule,
For barely a second had passed since I spied
And my spying had proved Isaac Newton had lied.
The coffee, rebelling ‘gainst gravity’s hold
Rose away from the pool where physics once told
That all liquids poured in must quickly collect
For somehow, in THIS tank, there’s no such respect.
The coffee just floated - suspended in air 195
Refusing to give to ‘ol gravity’s dare.
Then... with subtle vibration, it started to swell
And expand horizontal, thus filling the well.
Of the three states of matter, not one would quite do
To explain the big change that the coffee went through.
Not solid, or liquid, or even a gas -
It became more of a pseudo-gelatinous mass.
But even that telling is truly inept
For it tells not a bit of the properties kept.
While neither a gas nor a solid it be,
Nor technically liquid, it still was all three.
And though my knowledge of science is really quite sketchy,
These molecular bonds I’d assess as “quite stretchy”.
Java electrons have more room to roam
Yet bonds were still bound to the boundaries of home,
For the coffee’s exploring extremes of potential
But yet not exceeding what keeps it essential
To still be defined through the old molecule
As what’s known as coffee, not UFO fuel.
Though I know not what exactly I saw, 200
I know it’s beyond all known physical law.
My knowledge of science may be quite sub-par
And my attempts to sound smart only get me so far,
But my layman-like levels of knowledge restrict
Not an ounce of attempt to keep you all tricked
On the status of my intellectual smarts
As my brain fights to finish the things my mouth starts.
Now my skills of description have hit a plateau
And my poor grades in science are starting to show...
But...That’s when ‘ol gravity regained it’s stride
As it pulled things not down, but pulled off to the side.
The walls of the tank all pulled with equal measure
Attracting the substance they sought as their treasure.
The coffee that journeyed through such transformation
Compressed ‘gainst the walls - to the ship’s clear elation.
The vibrating fluid squished flat to the wall
In mere seconds, was gone, as the ship drank it all.
Like a sponge, the tank’s walls just absorbed their strange brew
But just how they did it, I haven’t a clue.
Now the silvery shine that once lined the whole tank 205
Glowed brighter, post-drink, from the coffee it drank.
The air in the room had a palpable buzz -
An effect that I’d bet is occurring because
Just like before when the ship made it known
Through nonverbal talk on its own... “psychic phone”,
The ship is now sending a signal so clear
Of joy and great thanks, that I... somehow... can hear.
Inside the ship, alarms were far fewer
And though it sounds strange, the ship somehow seemed... newer.
But I think that the ship’s tank still needs to be fed
For some of the gauges still read in the red.
So, of the brew brewed for me, two big gulps I ingest
Then gleefully pour in the tank all the rest.
I spied once again on the digestive process
That works to reverse the ship’s energy losses.
Coffee went in and it rose off the floor,
Suspended, vibrated, then space - it took more
As it swelled, then compacted against the tank’s walls
Then quick disappeared through invisible straws.
Again I checked gauges for any feedback 210
To assess how much power the ship may still lack.
I can’t say for certain I’m reading them right,
But I’d guess its a good thing there’s no more red light.
It’s a truth universal that red warns of danger
And though all the symbols here couldn’t seem stranger,
The right of most gauges contain a red zone.
I think I’ll consider that meaning as known.
I’ll further assume that the gauges are simple
And needle at middle will mean that a limp’ll
Be the best way to describe the next flight -
And a point to the left is far better than right.
Now no more gauges are reading in red
They’ve moved to the left just a little instead.
I’ll keep pouring coffee until she resists,
But for now I can hear her say “MORE!”... she insists.
Like a ground that's quite dry but yet hasn't quite cracked,
An unquenchable thirst for the liquid it's lacked
Now consumes this great ship on her great coffee binge
It's like feeding Godzilla through a tiny syringe.
So I go to brew more fuel to fill up the tank 215
And I ponder the state of the brew that she drank.
Does temperature matter? Would cold brew suffice?
Will the ship have a fit if it’s served brew on ice?
With a fresh pot now brewing, the fridge I peruse.
There’s a big jug of cold joe I’m tempted to use.
It would hurry the process here, seeing as I’m
Now filling the ship’s tank one pot at a time.
But is there a danger with coffee so cold?
Could use of cold coffee cause problems untold?
Would the drop in the temperature cause her to seize?
Or make her react with a violent brain freeze?
It wastes so much time to just wait for each pot
I think that I simply must give it a shot.
So as a fresh pot still brews (just ever so slow),
I go to the fridge and I grab the cold joe.
I journeyed the jug so quick back to the ship
But slowly I poured in just one little sip.
If she should not react bad to this test,
I’ll pour with full gusto then, all of the rest.
But if the cold java should cause the ship shock, 220
Surely the trauma would not cause a block
Of the progress we’ve made in refueling this girl
For I doubt such a small sip could cause her to hurl.
As it turns out, there was no need to worry -
She took the cold java, and in a real hurry
Those slower electrons she put to good use.
The use of cold java was far from abuse.
It seems coffee chilled is the drink she prefers
A fact ascertained from reactions it stirs.
The details involved I’ll soon further address
But for now, an analogy, while I digress:
You know how a warm beer is bliss to the German?...
And a beer-lovin’ tourist would not be found squirmin’
Away from such warm beer while visiting there...
But his brew must be frigid once in his own lair?
I think it’s the same here... with a different type buzz
But the meaning is greater than warm beer because
Serve the brew warm and it’s loved - that’s the truth
But serve the joe cold - it’s the fountain of youth.
I know that sounds odd, so here, let me explain 225
That one sip of cold joe reduced the ship’s pain.
The dings and the dents all reversed themselves quick
Like botox for metal, the cold joe’s the trick.
My ship suffered so many rough introductions
Results were destructive aesthetic deductions
But one sip of low-temp brew packed quite a punch
Repairing so quick the ship’s external crunch.
And if one drop of cold joe gets ship near potential,
Results of a whole jug should be exponentially
Better than simple improvements cosmetic
Restoring full function atop visual aesthetic.
So before it warms up I must pour it all down
Get the brew in and fly out around town.
With one whole large dose of this miracle cure
I’ll finally get my new ship here to soar.
Oh yeah! That’s right! I forgot to convey
How the science went down - how the cold brew did play.
The best thing to do is provide live description
As healing takes place from this cold-brewed prescription.
So now as I feed the tank every last drip 230
The unexplained science begins to take grip.
The chill of the brew as it hits the tank walls
Forms a fast dew. The reaction then stalls.
But alas! Fear not. For the pause is quite brief.
Too brief for the pause to be called a time thief.
But let not its brevity fool its import,
For a world of things happen in time that's so short.
Like a gasp that is held and so briefly stops time,
That moment of frozen suspension sublime
Where focus and big expectation arise
And the vacuum prepares one for coming surprise.
This is the moment that happens just prior
To great restoration the ship will acquire.
For stillness and silence describe what is seen
But the scene on the level atomic is keen
To defy what the eye and the ear have conveyed -
As transformative powers will soon be displayed
Through physical science as yet unexplained
And all the ship's functions will soon be regained.
Then in a flash there's a visual treat 235
As science provides more reduction in heat
Causing the dew to go through a flash freeze
While a big woosh of air released a cold breeze.
A quick frigid sneeze (if you please) from the tank
Was expelled without goop while the temperature sank.
Remaining contents were a true stunning sight
Of crystals that clung to the tank walls so tight.
No sign of liquid or hint of the brew,
But the crystals glowed bright as they grew and they grew.
An intricate mix of all shapes and design
On which the ship soon, with great hunger, will dine.
But not before seeing the whole process finish -
For anything less would greatly diminish
The energy gained from this game of renewal
And lessen the sparkle that comes from this jewel.
The wait nearly over, the meal nearly done,
The crystals still grow as they shine like the Sun,
But with colors that change as the crystals evolve
Through each change of shape with such steady resolve.
But unlike the Sun, no heat is produced. 240
Rather, the temperature's greatly reduced -
For each inch of growth that the crystals do grow,
The more the electrons continue to slow.
As each inch of growth takes but barely a second -
The space in the tank's nearly up to its neck and
Consumed by the rate of the crystal's construction
Causing a self-propelled thermal reduction
That grows in its scope at a rate exponential
Towards flagging the ship as a true quintessential
Example of possible energy sources
To finally render the Big Oil forces
Unneeded. Unwanted. Addiction defeated.
Oil as king. From its throne - unseated.
Restricted from use as a dirty old fuel -
With coffee the victor in energy duel -
Oil can stick to its minor league uses,
Thus ending its role in such major abuses.
This is the future to come from my find 245
Energy crises will be redefined
From catastrophes, spills, and such finite supplies,
To questioning all of the hows and the whys
Of taking so long to no longer use oil -
The substance to which we've so long been so loyal.
Instead - a fuel of renewable nature
That offers the option to simply create your
Own fuel as you need it for barely a penny
With mileage received being way beyond many
More miles than ever achieved burning gas.
Coffee's miles per gallon will greatly surpass
All efficiency standards that we've ever had
And finally end that old gasoline fad
Of filling the tank every few hundred miles
With gallons and gallons through financial trials.
Forgive me. I'm getting ahead of myself
These goals (just for now) I will put on the shelf
As focus returns to the science at hand
That soon will provide me a freedom from land.
The crystals have grown all that space will allow 250
And though I admit I don't understand how,
With a shivering flash, ship's renewal's complete,
I witnessed a thorough and utter defeat
Of the wear and the tear that the ship has endured -
Cold coffee's declared all catastrophes cured.
The sheen has returned to the ship's outer shell
As a sniff of the air bears that new spaceship smell.
A check on the gauges shows ship fully charged
With travel capacity greatly enlarged.
Now miles would prove exponentially shy
In conveying what distance the shop can still fly.
Units of measure of much greater scale
Are needed where units of miles do fail
To provide any concept of distances far
For the ship can now fly to and from any star.
MORE TO COME
