I wish I was a Jovian

I wish I was a Jovian
staring out at a distant speck
of blue earth. Seated in my
deckchair I’ll have a ring-side seat
as shoemaker-Levy’s red beads fall.
I’ll be consumed by fire
and become the fireball’s plume.

I wish I was a Jovian.
Looking out at Io, pock marked
with lava spewing volcanoes
and pulsing with tidal forces.
I want to swim beneath the ice
on Europa and become the crone
with scarred and wrinkled skin.

But the great red spots three
hundred and fifty year old storm
might get a little trying and the heady
cocktail of helium and hydrogen
not so good for the health.
So instead I’ll listen to Jupiter’s
magnetosphere in radio static

from the beach in Rhyl.