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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “In the Singularity” Down in the Dirt, v175 (the September 2020 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Late Frost the Down in the Dirt Sept.-Dec. 2020 issues collection book		get the 420 page Sept.-Dec. 2020 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Mars

Casey Killingsworth

There was this show on the massive amount of food
prepared everyday on a luxury ship, thousands
of pounds of shrimp and chicken and unspeakable
numbers of workers trapped on that boat,
racing against the clock to make every meal perfect.
I don’t even know if we have words to judge this.

Sometimes I don’t feel like I belong here, like I’m
different in the way a shrimp is different
from a chicken, the way they look at
the world with either feathers or from
underneath the ocean and in the end sharing
space on someone’s plate is all they have in common.

Sometimes I feel like I’m from another planet,
you know, like I’m lying there on someone else’s plate.
Then I walk down the street watching everyone watch
themselves in store windows believing the same thing,
how different they are. And I start thinking, well, maybe
we are all from Mars or maybe we’re already on Mars
and we’ve been here all along.

And if that’s true, then maybe we’re not so different after all.

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