Weirdly, NASA's latest training program introduced coloring books
and found the three-toed paw of the chameleon underlying
each astronaut invariably transmits to the remaining corpus
the texture and color of “burnt-out bath salts.”
Astronauts appreciate the worst parts of (even the most
tragic) coloring books. The bubbling skin of a
toy action figure exposed to radiation
is colored in with the loving, doting peck
of perfection's chicken beak.
They treat each pencil as a bone saw.
They treat each line as a marking they'd
made themselves with a sharpie.
Space is toneless to an astronaut.
Anything that separates its pieces from
the center outward is indifferent to adhesion.
Does this strike you as a happy place?
Well, it is.
Ever heard the sound of an astronaut lost in space's
self-satisfied smacking of lips?