There is a door
we walk thru every day.
We carry our coffee in paper cups.
We drive south on the
freeway. We look North
toward the Sound.
We look West toward the pier.
We prepare for
shit that nobody told us about.

We look for cheap gas.
We call the insurance company.
We worry about the keys,
we left in our pants.
We worry if Kansas
will ever welcome us
home.
We wander like there are
no other humans in the
Milky Way.

Let us down easy God.

Look up.

Mars is out tonight. Is it  red?

Looks pink to me. She says. Mars that is.