The Mars Talk

i meet my friend Ernie for lunch

down at the park

by the space museum.

he's a scientist from MIT.

he's agreed to answer some questions

about the possibility of men

going to mars.

he's wearing a light blue

seer sucker suit, and wearing

a straw hat.  no cane.

he brings his lunch, a tuna sandwich

with the crust cut off, an apple,

and three oreo cookies, with a few

cut up carrots in a plastic bag.

all of it packed neatly into

his star trek lunch box.

his wife has written him a note,

which he doesn't share with me,

but makes him nod his head

and say. oh my. yes indeed, then

he looks at his mickey mouse watch.

i'm having a lamb sub sandwich made

by an Ethiopian food truck idling

on the street, coughing black fumes

into the air. some of the sandwich grease

 has dripped onto my t-shirt.

why mars? i ask him, interviewing

him for my neighborhood online

column.

why not? he says, smugly, chewing

on his sandwich.

well, there's no water, no food.

no air. no electricity, no chance of life

surviving in that atmosphere.

we, as humans adapt. we are smart.

we know how to live under the harshest

of environments. 

No air, i say again, emphasizing the word

air.

we'll bring air and food, water, etc.,

he says  

there's a little mayo on his chin, which

i point out to him.

gently he dabs at it with his folded

napkin.

it''ll cost billions though, and maybe lives

will be lost.   what about the earth.

we need medicine, jobs, people are starving.

the economy, global warming....we're in

a pandemic right now with this crazy virus.

fiddle de dee, he says, now munching on

a carrot.  that's why we need to go

to other planets. a fresh start, a do over.

we'll bring back some rocks, and mars

dirt and see what gives.

but we have dirt and  rocks here.

not the same, he says. not the same.

have faith my uneducated friend.

he points at the grease stain on

my t-shirt, with his finger, i look

down, and he moves his hand up

to hit my chin.

gothca, he says.  

i roll my eyes and take another bite

of my never ending sandwich.

mars will be fun, he says.

an adventure.

wouldn't you want to go?

not really, but hey. can we wrap this

up, thanks for the interview, but

i need to find a bathroom, my stomach

is rumbling like crazy on account

of this sandwich.

there's one in the museum, he says,

pointing with a carrot...take a left

at the gemini capsule

and it's down the hall from there.