The Acquiescent Projected Self on Mars


They knew the dust storm would happen
And that it would eat the World
All the way round

One took pictures
One went to sleep

Perhaps not to wake
In a thin unbreathable
Atmosphere lifting clouds of red
Just dust, not the heavy sand

They are perfectly condensed
Representations of the ones we are
Pared down to just two modes
Sleep and wait
Watch and learn

They will do as we ask
We had them sent just so
Rational, and immune to awe
And sorrow
Always with a spare, in case of loss.

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