they called them the rocket jockeys
because they did their regular run
riding the battered freighter shuttles
away from the warmth of the sun
carrying the crushed raw moon ore
to orbital space station number one
quickly dumping each cargo
then refuelled away and gone
on compulsory planetary leave
you could see the look in each white face
read the barely suppressed longing
to return to the cold beauty of space
you can take your grand canyon beauty
your restaurants your clubs and your bars
just let me look through space vacuum
at the beauty of carpets of stars
yes they called us the rocket jockeys
only one of our own could understand
our urge to get back to orbit
and throw off the ties of the land
when i die just power up my spacesuit
point it on a final long curving run
looping away form the planets
for a date with the fires of the sun