i said i’m from neptune

you said you’re from mars,

and maybe this goes beyond just a childhood game.

i built a rocket out of scratch,

our moons will never dance to the rhythm of the one of earth.

this planet doesn’t belong to us

perhaps we don’t belong.

i built a rocket out of scratch,

just take my hand, we’ve already gone too far.

earth fades from the window

made from a billowing sheet of plastic-

we count the planets that go by,

the way our teachers taught us in the third grade:

My Very Excellent Mother Just Served Us Noodles…

i don’t see the promised rivers on mars,

we set out in our space helmets-

half broken fish bowls, yes. they serve us just well.

from Phobos to Deimos- to the blue that engulfs neptune-

where are the alien whispers from the storybooks?

the satellites can reach us no longer.

we should go, you said. the plastic window peels,

no one had to teach me how to build a rocket out of scratch

or breathe in a fish bowl on neptune,

but i still sail my rocketship

towards gravity