(Note: I wrote this long before the shuttle disaster and don't want to change the name of the shuttle in the piece now)
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Columbia rears up straining on the pad
a forty story phallus leaking lox,
steaming and streaming in the flat Florida sunshine
we two are nestled all snug in our seats
the drone of launch control tinny in our ears
waiting, just waiting
are we really the first ones to conceive such a plan?
surely the Russians were here years before
women and men in space together
but they were bound into suits
huge, voluminous sacks
more effective than a chastity belt
we fly in jumpsuits
jumpsuits with dozens of velcro tabs
I get warm every time I hear that static RIPPPPPPP!
like tearing loose a painless skin
little hooks and loops screaming in protest
and the count is steady
building towards that well rehearsed climax
where we'll leap off the platform
riding the roar
and in anticipation of that surge
I'm already loose
swarming across to straddle you
we wait
let it build
and now HERE comes your thrust
and Columbia obliges with hers
forcing you deeper
the scream torn from my throat and left behind
we're pressed together by five gees at least
until at apogee
I float free
no touch mars the shudder
