Still A Fan
I’ve have walked the streets of Amber.
I’ve seen the ghost Pattern as it shines in the ghost city in the sky.
I’ve bathed in a ocean of Pern, with a Fire-lizard for a tub-mate and a Gold Dragon standing guard.
I’ve dangled my feet in icy a stream of gray, while a Fussy and a Hobbit argued whither or not Moteis ever will be free.
I’ve stood on the docks of Babylon as the Pride of Chanur came into port.
I’ve drunk tea and beer at the coffee shops of Turnfairy and Argo.
I’ve heard a Klingon’s victor cry echoing through the conqurred corridors
of a Romulan war freighter.
I’ve been to Ancient Rome in a phone booth, along with a curly haired man in a scarf. While his metal dog kept watch, hoping to see a ship called Liberator.
I’ve defeated the Death Star in a space pod. While the last starfighter docked with its mother ship in the sky above.
I’ve crossed between stars using a circle of light, looking like a swimming pool turn on its side.
I’ve sat in the forests of Barraya, arguing with a skull named Bob. Laughing as a flying cape frolics with sprites in the woods.
I’ve watch Shadows and Angels fight with White Stars and living ships.
I saw them touch the edge of time.
I’ve seen a woman with just a number for a name, play chess with a melancholy robot.
I’ve seen a double sun rise in the sky, a galaxy made of black stars, I’ve even seen a black hole turn white.
I’ve seen tomorrow through the Bard’s eyes.
How can you ask me why,
after all these years,
I’m still a Fan?
By Patrick Spatz