With those air miles, Roy, you could tour the moons of Jupiter.
Ensure the planets are in correct formation,
no-one stepping beyond their sphere.
Your Wikipedia page has crashed my computer
somewhere between Gravesend and Neuchȃtel
and I’m back to pen and paper
to consider the passage of Europa,
the year Roy and Ray were in its orbit
four hundred years after Simon Marius.
Now the Simon we drink to is Simon Davies
and Europa Passage a side-street in Hamburg.
Roy, Grasshopper of Zürich: one among many.
Ray, you know your exits on the Orbital Motorway:
hornets, eagles, bees near a depleted cottage.
Five spells in the dark and the brightest of suns still ahead.