our ashes on spaceship earth 

when i was six 
my uncle took me to disney world.
i thought there was no need
for travel if the whole world
lived in epcot-- 
each country around
the lake--it was a showcase set out just
for my small feet.
i watched
the foreign flags spit angry fireworks 
at the florida sky & we climbed
into spaceship earth--
the silver prickly pear orb
where we were all born.
we were all there to float
down the river in a basket
like moses.
our caravan halted as we were
passing the animatronic 
michelangelo going over the 
same brush stroke of the sistine
chapel again & again--
we became trapped 
in his time loop curse--
our hands stiffened in the arthritic
grip of his hand around his paint brush--
we stopped like hand prints
in the wet frescos of 
sixteenth century ceiling--
after a time we all began to chatter
& from ship to ship--
passed messages-- suspended 
in time we thought about
getting out
of the boats & assuming roles in
the different scenes we had passed--
discovering alphabets in
the teeth of stiff Phoenicians 
or riding roman chariots
into orbit--
my uncle explained to me that they 
had to stop the ride because someone
had released ashes into the
water-- ashes from
someone they had loved-- 
my grandfather was 
ashes in an urn in the
attic so i understood
what kind of ashes he meant--
back then i thought we all died like
that-- a disintegration of
our bones like mortar & pestle
in our own sockets-- that 
maybe we all just eventually fell
apart into black dust--
we all just waiting 
to be scattered by someone
who loves us.
i wondered why
anyone would want to be part of
a spaceship perpetually  
trying to tell
the story of earth & always failing--
there were not enough animatorons
to show all the people we all
could have been-- 
there was no boy playing chess
with himself outside a cafe
in a small town that seemed
too big to leave-- 
there was no
diner stools or girls setting
dandelions to float
down the river outside her house
where the air smelled like golden
husks of corn in september--
i told my uncle while we were sitting
there-- waiting for time to start back
up again--
that i would want someone to plant
my ashes underneath a tree or throw them
around outside in the wind--
maybe in toss them to the creak
that feeds
the duck pond at fleetwood park
where i had grown up & leaned to ride
my bicycle
in the parking lot--
not all of us make alphabets or
paint the ceiling of big churches
but we all were born from 
the great metal spaceship earth &
we all fall apart in a jar
full of ash gripped tightly in
the lap of someone who loved us--
i reached down & grazed my finger
over the water near by the ship
to see if the water felt
different with someone's ashes inside--
it felt cold & the ship tilted slightly 
so i pulled my finger back inside raft
& eventually we finished
our trip through all of time as
we know it-- as usually my legs
felt wobbly
at the end of the ride &
for a moment i wished i were 
ash so i could choose
where to scatter myself
when the time came--