Solo

Eating a burger. Lettuce falls out. A week likes to be that way. The sky is like a funeral. Uncomfortable. Gripping the arm rests. On this rocket ship. I live alone. I have a bag of clothes that I don’t wear much. That I used to wear sometimes. Means a lot to me. That old t-shirt? I remember everything. Except the hospital. And what noon is. Someone like me. Who has headaches. And rubber arms. Like me. A whole planet like me. This solo investigation. They didn’t give me anything. Not even a raincoat. To travel to Mars and other places. Yet I- Remembered to bring a pen and notebook. Into the flat landscape.