Intergalactic Deliverance

Is there a postal service that
Will send my picture into space?
I searched, scoured,
Everywhere along 1-94
Because, desperately,
I want to be a eternal snap shot
In the cosmos.
To stowaway in the universe
To cheat my timely, inevitable end.

I am met with worried frowns
When I ask the head of our local UPS.
Frowns that furrow more deeply when I
Enthusiastically suggest an overnight express.
The good, hardworking people of FedEx
Turn down my
Chance at intergalactic acclaim.

The space of my stardom is quickly dying,
I desperately string up my face
To a helium ballon,
Champagne popping celebration as
I float into the stratosphere.
Photography is not advanced enough
To withstand the atmosphere, probably.
Perhaps the sky shall
Provide me with
Some sort of forever.

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