there must be some way out of here

you lose contact with earth,
but it's fine.
you're sort of tired
of the chatter
from mission control.
the static is so annoying.
and if there was really
a problem
there's little they
could do to help you
anyway. we are all in some
version of outer space
to begin with.
no need to be in a capsule
hurtling towards
the moon, hoping
to sling shot back
to the only livable
planet in the universe.
we are all walking around
in space suits,
breathing, eating,
trying our best to survive
on this strange ball
orbiting the sun.
finally they reach you.
are you still there?
but you don't answer,
you've got no blah blah blah
in you for the moment. so
you put some music on,
a little Dylan.
all along the watchtower,
for starters, maybe some
cream to follow,
sunshine of your love.