The Surface

A man came and handed him

A key and pointed to a door

Inscribed “Your Wishes.”

It had been five years since

He uttered those wishes

He’d worked at them in a hostile

Wasteland like Mars’s surface

Exiled and now, offered

A key and a door, a return

Of sorts, to the world

He’d left, and now those wishes

Reemerged, emblazoned

On the door, characters,

Symbols of a future life

In forms of the past.