The Hydrogen and Helium Show
Stems bent 90 degrees like twisted goosenecks,
they reside in herds atop undulated ground with their extendable metal poles.
Those cloaked in white operate much larger models:
domed instruments as astronomical and far-reaching as a Himalayan expedition of that goose.
The ones who jump and howl, pausing only to stretch open their rowdy pink tunnels,
seem to prefer miniature versions dipped in synthetic shades of red and green.
Alloyed accessories, it turns out, are not essential.
Two oculi will do just fine.
Concentric Russian dolls dance within their corneal confines,
trying to take in the Hydrogen and Helium show.
The speckled black curtain waits for no applause,
the icons have already graced the stage:
A dusty bubble named Cynthia or Selene performs regularly,
illimitably followed by her peers who specialize in Egyptian comedies and Babylonian tragedies.
These ebullient players remain in cliques, winking in tune to lullabies.
It’s certainly very pleasant, but when the jester streaks away from the group in a fit of sparks,
Oh! that is when the bewitched herd detain their loud air,
blinding themselves for a moment at the mercy of the fleeing clown.
Billions of favours disguised as red roses escape the exospheric playhouse,
who knows when they’ll end up?
The vaporous backdrop sways and swells as the most spectacular cameos retreat
until the next premiere of a lifetime,
but, while our faithful ensemble of thousands of millions
continue to tell the stories of Orion, Delphinus, and Capricornus,
for anybody who wishes to escape the long night,
the show will last forever.