Pale Blue Sky - The Shuttle and Me

Arriving early for the film
a comedy about the Palestinian intafada
should give me time to dwell on the 'issues'.
The falling pound, a federal Europe, or the
impending conflict in Iraq. But no,
sitting, waiting with my coffee, my thoughts
are about a website and some stupid remarks,
like the words of some unknown people mattered.

A few days ago a man killed himself
in an internet chatroom, watched, egged on
by the other users. Then they figured out
he meant it and was about to die.
Typing to the end his last coherent words
"I told you I was hardcore" stayed on screen
as his body grew cold. On the same day
possibly above his home the Columbia exploded.

Falling to pieces above America the shuttle
came down and the world was broken. We were told
the deaths of these seven pioneers counted
for more than the man in his chat room
or even the dozens of Africans killed the same day.
But Phil Spector, with his gun, still made the news.

I could think about any of this, make some connections,
but the coffee is strong and the air is stale
with dead cigarettes and the stench of the gents loo.
No, I just keep going back to my own
non-fatal, web-based forum where we're
all getting stroppy. We could turn away,
look up at our own patch of pale blue sky
and watch the streaks that could be metal breaking up,
falling like rain onto the ground below.
But we just keep on typing
as if we were in the chat room, waiting.