When it Rains on Mars

I took a slow, desolate walk on Mars today.

Not a soul in sight, so I thought I’d stay.

The red moist ground reminded me.

This isn’t Earth with her spacious seas.

The air is different, toxic, dank, and cold.

Our detonating star aloof, so heat can’t take hold.

I’m mystified by the notion of space and time.

And how things would be if I could hit rewind.

Would I have been rude to that man yesterday?

Would I have rested when I could have played?

Would I love her harder than I have so far?

CO2 air forms unique illusions of shooting stars.

As I sit here alone, a desolate astronaut in an alien place.

Pondering how perpetual failures are all void of grace.

My tears seem to float like a heart-breaking memoir.

Leaking, levitating, lamenting. They seem to float down like rain on Mars.