Mouldering, the white moon we imagined there
Surface the texture of soft powdered cheese,
Holes in the logic it existed to please
Though what is pleasure if not beauty shared?
Caulfield Grammar School in cool wintry browns
Suspended all classes for the “one small step”,
Science Lab crammed with young men who leapt
For mark or basket, watched *beep* TV sounds.
Essays we wrote in those awkward age classes
Argued for progress, and its opposite.
Weren’t there better ways to use their energies?
Poetry adjusted the lunar analogies:
American moon, bigshot moon, lonely satellite,
Quarry moon, sandpit moon of Mankind’s farces.
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