Space Travel

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.