poetry by Marge Simon & Bruce Boston Asylum for Astronauts  I gave my life to guesswork on the ambiguous hope the stars could be real. Beyond my window, interlaced with bars, the moon is a saber slashing the black night, starlight blanched in its passing. We made it far as Betelgeuse before we bounced back to Sol like rubber balls on rubber bands until the crew went mad. When the nurse returns I'll down the pills in pretense, stash them and beg for more,  until there are enough to resurrect a living corpse.  And once I breathe again I will walk past in silence and watch them reveling their grandiloquent illusions.     Contributor's bio Table of Contents Background by Fantasy Graphics