My Sexual Self at Age Sixty

Like a rogue planet passing occasionally into view
most of the time I drift through interstellar space
in a cold vacuum of inconspicuity, surrounded by
frozen asteroids & traces of interstellar debris.

Sometimes, however,
a random passing body produces
a faint nudge — over time, such events shift orbits
& eventually I start a six-billion kilometre descent
towards my solar center.

Somewhere around the inner planets
my body heats up & vapours arise.

At the height of passion
I become incandescent —
a celestial sperm whose tail is elongated
rushing blindly along a path
with only two possible outcomes:
impact or repetition.

Wil this time be another fleeting close encounter?

Heading towards the outskirts of oblivion,
I cool down while moving past Jovian gas giants.

Entering a world where the calmness is near perfect,
amidst frozen ice, methane, & mostly empty space,
I become once again coolly indifferent —
almost forgetting how I
am linked to a four-billion year old cycle
& when it comes to gravity
all of us
are easily swayed


Hmm. This dude seems so utterly isolated.


Yeah. I would guess he’s afraid of close encounters of any kind.


Well, human closeness is seldom easy. All of us bear the scars of former collisions.
It’s amazing that most of us manage to function as well as we do.


Hey, which would you rather be — stuck way out in the frozen Kuiper belt
or risking collision to obtain closeness and warmth?


Isn’t moderation possible? Is it really necessary to go to extremes?