Irish exit to Mars

The last time I spoke with my family was

before

I signed my life away to go on that mission to Mars.

I didn’t let them know.

I didn’t ask them what they thought.

I didn’t ask for any opinions.

I’d already made up my mind about the whole thing

and

I didn’t need anyone trying to talk me out of it.

What were they going to say anyway?

Would they tell me life on Mars would be worse

than the life I had down here on Earth?

Would there be anyone who could convince me to stay?

The dog maybe?

Maybe the dog could,

but what’s he going to say?

It’ll be me convincing myself to stay for the dog,

not the dog telling he can’t go on without me.

Since I made the decision,

a one-way trip to Mars,

I’ve had to tell my family

and I’ve heard it all.

How could you?

Have you thought about the consequences?

What about your mother?

What about your father?

What about your brother?

What about this

What about that

and on

and on

ad nauseam.

What about the desire to leave this blue world

and the desire to live on a red one,

somewhere with a rolling landscape of sand and rock

and mystery?

Yes, I will never make it home,

and the last time I see someone will be the last time I see someone,

but that’s no different down here than it would be up there.

I want to go somewhere I might find death around the corner.

I want to go somewhere that might drive a man to madness.