Lunar Base Commander Raines reporting to Houston. I’m not sure what you witnessed on your end, but we’ve got a bit of an issue up here.

I know this is going to sound fantastical but here goes:

I’m fairly certain that Command Module Pilot Aikman is a werewolf.

Before I departed from the dentist’s office,
the doctor asked me if I wanted to get an imprint
of my teeth to have on file, an impression
as part of their ongoing collection.

Who needs two eyes
when the show is dull
and the right people go?

It’s so America,
so nineteen fifties,
so Main Street nostalgic, so
Karl-Marx’s-brain-would-explode-by-the-time-he-hit-the-churro-cart capitalistic.

O, corkscrew—
You’re supposed to be easier,
easier than the one with
bird wings that press down,
and pull the cork up,