One-way Ticket to Pluto
by Parisianne Modert
“What becomes of the broken hearted?” has been answered by my friend and kindly clock-maker, Ed, with the answer being a one way ticket to the heart of Pluto. Over the last nine years I have imagined the epiphany photos of my beloved ancestral planet again and again as postcards exposing the source world of my nature’s extra-stranded DNA formed brain and my nurtured alienation in life and love appears on screen.
It is more than time for me, a love sickened tragedy, to find the Ice Sea of the Whale’s Tail on the surface of Pluto. The New Horizons space probe has flown by this hearted Pluto without stopping to be served its yellowish elixir tea served with a Charon cookie properly at four, but I must now accept this invitation, because I am lost in destiny’s obsession with a lady more beautiful than 10 million stars being born. My paraphrase of John Gray’s, “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus and Parisianne is from Pluto” is a testimony to my degrading soul as absentee and falling lost grace of this lady’s tolerance .
Love should be as splendid a beauty as Shakespeare’s Brave New World in which Miranda innocently radiates to her Ferdinand. Love-carved from life leaves me a castrated Romeo without her Juliet. What flight of romantic recourse is there for me, the heartless, given that I gave my heart away to my Juliet in a kiss of no return? What is left of Earth’s soil to heal and sprout anew for a Trans-Neptunian woman knowing her given heart sings only in the garden of her Juliet? What fountain of youth water could ever give me beauty worthy of such a star-struck lady of heavenly choir?
The booster engines fire, dragon-breaths, scorching an Earth I never belonged on. Escape burns the night, a phoenix in flight. My Romeo compulsions to be ever be loved by Juliet are space-bound ashes from Church poison. Forgive me my Juliet. My Pluto Genesis will create my new heart to hear my voice sing again.
Does this image look goofy to you?