The plastic bag ballooned its way to the moon.

There was traffic at the center of the universe.

One strand of highway flew off with the wind.

A blacklight orchid cast its shadow on the wall of the parking garage.

Between two panes, infinite stars were pulled into the ship.

Somewhere else, a table was set for the Mars party.

And you know what that means.

I told two lies into the mirror.

Venus called me on one of them.

On the other end of the line, she sang a third.

When the laser cut a pattern in my shirt, I thought of diamonds.

All space exploration is just another excuse to extract.

No one left to clear the table.

I washed the clean napkins anyway, just to feel the blue of dawn.