You found yourself a life on Mars.
But remember the feeling of concrete
freshly drenched in the summer’s heat.
Face to ground, it cooked you medium well —
sunbaked to perfection.
Think about when we were cool kids
hanging on the block,
cones oozing sugar down our arms
and we would lick up every last drop.
We slept on park benches —
under trees and
between the cracks in the leaves
slithering and biting.
We were scorched.
It was sizzle to touch.
It was burnt to breathe.
We didn’t mind because
we were poker faced twerps,
even when our shirts were salt stained
and our skin, too.
We blamed it on the Saltines
They were our breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Praise the soup kitchen.
We would fill our pockets full.
Sometimes even in summer’s greatest blaze
we’d tried to taste the taste
of the chili that we ate at the foster.
Spiced just so that it made us sweat through our eyes.
Sweat would lead to tears.
I would force myself to choke them down.
and you’d always know because
my cheeks would catch fire.
You found yourself a life on mars,
where it’s negative sixty-four degrees.
You should remember as well as I — only cool is hot.
And you’re 34 million miles away from our cool kid days.
Come back down to earth.