An Ode to NEMP by Adam
Can a ball sent skyward justly be said to be traveling to da moon as it departs NEMP’s lunar surface? Are not all balls sent bounding through its dusty craters in truth sent a la luna? Lo, we are but insignificant moon men, scuttling about, kicking at the ankles of a universe so expansive one can barely hear one’s friend yelling at one’s self across it. Eons from now, scholars will find fossilized shins and other less useful bones of a mighty band of badgers scattered deep in a treeline near the ruins of a burgeoning tent city. One observes in awe that there is not a dentist among them. His protege turns to him with a tear in his eye to say, “Look at the bunion on this one. Jesus.” You said it, man. As the sun sets and they pack up their gear, Derek’s ancient PK streaks across the sky one final time before escaping its orbit and leaving this small blue world forever. Oranges. Fin.
