should we move

it's almost like you don't
care anymore, she says to me
while putting suntan lotion on my
bald head.

I don't. I tell her.

I really don't care anymore about
a lot of things.

I used to care, but things have
changed.

I put my hat on and stare out at the wide
green sea.

it's beautiful and lovely. serene.

a minute later,

a family of six screaming kids
with a wagon of gear
set up their enormous tent
right in front of
us, blocking the view.

they've brought a pizza to the beach
in a giant brown box. each with a slice
dangling in their greasy fingers.

should we move, she says, shading
her eyes with her hand.

to where, I ask. mars?