In the Beginning, there was Chrome
A measured tale of Romance and Tragedy
In the Galaxy of the Nineteen fifties, there were only a scant few starships
several burgeoning lunar cities, whole Fiction fleeced Binaries of dark and doom yet to be spread
Yet to Lather our milky-canvasecular trope in half, barely there micro-expansion And the Lonely gem
of our Heart-Sun had only just erected the talisman-gargantuan of towers at her still Virgin center
Silvery Pink, only picturesque in her blacks and whites
only recently discarded Sepia Cosmos tilted to her golden Era’ed stride out the Ethos
or the Zeitgeist or whatever blew away with the Great Depression, felt in the Universe
as a Dull and dusty sandstorm, Ballroom chandelier crooked with a million little dents
No matter, her roaring twenties her shambles of stars, dangling from an Over-Sexed earlobe
No matter her gracious Industrial constructive early teens, this beautiful Buxomer Blonde was
a New Gal Pal by the fifties, by the time the bomb had struck her Virgin Petticoats revealed
the Cosmos what-if speculumed wide open for all the doctors to view, no less her Religion in Shambles
This Maybe adorned starlet had a silver screen and a heart of gold Then somewhere in some
Asteroid she was sure, some Glimmering Meteor of Hope plate laced in Chrome
Teal dreams were not keeping this moth-winged wunderkind down, no dreary dreams
of some sixty hippy loving revolution born in her blue prairie eyes just yet
she was all sunshine and something else’s, whodunits and wingding things tucked all over her vast
and corpulucent bodice, some much fiery gold and the turned wonder of her motor cars
the something other and the where we going now boss mystery of the Crime of the century
the Crown Jewel thief of time the Cosmos then, the stealer of headlines and the birth of a God
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