Snowglobe Hypothesis
By way of the elevator the smell
travelled from floor to floor—
Argument For, as in the new blender
snug in its casement of foam,
or the stewardess on her roofgarden,
breeding those mini-suns,
chrysanthemums, for the light-starved
below. These & other thoughts rattled
around the astronaut's helmeted head.
His breath fogged the moonscape.
Aladdin, poor lad, wanted out,
not in. We closed our eyes & still
we could see him, which meant
Argument Against, which meant
if oilspill, if imperfect pancake, then
tupperware, terrarium, gumball machine.
