I go into outer space every night. Escape velocity is easily achieved when you have the right fuel. Energy cells need to imbibe. They burn through it eagerly, thirsty.
My ship is christened every night amidst the misty corners of the Earth. The loneliest of places, an oasis of glass shards cracked underneath the weight of the world.
I try not to make reentry. I don’t want to, but gravity is my designated driver. The pressure rams against the hull. Falling, falling, falling right into the street, face deep in a milky way.
I’ve already begun the countdown ‘til next liftoff.
Photo credit: Elliott Brennan