Pit bull charges at me
only to be yanked back
by its chain. These, our
neighbors—one horrible
kennel of vicious dogs
after another—it doesn't
matter who or when.
NASA is looking for people
to die on Mars; I hear
they already have several
volunteers. In reality
our solar system
is a vast gyrating space vessel
heading somewhere unknown
to everyone—the secret
is a vital part of the mission's
success. Meanwhile,
we all play our roles—catbird
chatters forever from a flowering
locust—it is a lecture
in a language I can digest
only in my heart. A robin
sings its jewelry. And then
a girl walks by holding a pug.
He pants with his pink tongue
and seems to be the mastermind
of the journey.