This fictional genius I just created just let me know
she re-engineered a busted old motorcycle
she saw lying around.
“I had a few hours to kill,” she explained,
and showed me the goods.
It was a forcefield-contained,
earth-environment sustained flying bike
that could take you into the atmosphere.

“You should be able to get to the Moon
in about three and a half days.
I call it the Upcycle.”
I nodded. I don’t know much about spaceships.
“Looks good,” I said,
“Will I get bugs in my teeth?”
“We haven’t sighted any astro-bugs yet.
Maybe you’d be the first.”

She wanted me to fly her Upcycle.
“But why me?” I asked.
“Convenience,” she said. “If you go off on this adventure,
I won’t hear your music downstairs for a couple of days.”
I was convinced. “I’ll do it!”

My training took mere hours.
The cycle practically drives itself.
This is my last will and testament.
I hope I die before I get old.

TO BE CONTINUED…?