Visiting Mars

We slide out of Earth’s atmosphere

in an upholstered Tesla, solar powered.

The driver stands all the way 

in his cubicle, sheds no light

on the passengers’ speculations 

what was and is on the red planet—

NASA’s temporary space station, 

dilapidated Russian camps,

smaller countries’ claims.

The sudden change in skyscape vistas, 

sharp drops in the UV index as

we move closer to the dim light.

We marvel

as we step out

towards

              Martian Gothic-looking houses 

              Khoisan click-consonants 

              Karoo shrubs

              tall grass like sugar cane 

but not a single gumtree.

              Not a bank 

              gas station

              or bottle shop.

In broad brimmed hats

locals carry on their business,

tend their windfarms as if we aren’t here.

My jittery, nosy companions 

want to travel further.

              I want to stay here 

                       in the twilight.