Away

He had gotten away from earth awhile and could not tell what he missed or if he missed anything. Somehow he thought that he ought to feel differently, more lonely at having left everyone, the girls, parents, dogs, friends, all the people who had surrounded him for 23 years. He ought to feel a tearing, that is what, or a longing, an ache somewhere. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. This is just what has happened. This is just where he is: on the planet beside an ephemerally colored ocean in the viscous blue flamed fog and soundless tide. There is a warmth to it all, a kind of singing sleep. It is a happy drowsy world. He thinks that last night there were stars, but can't remember. When it gets dark sometimes the ocean fills with glowing creatures pulsing on and off like Vaseline drowned Christmas lights. He is not sure if he sleeps, and that if he sleeps that he dreams. But nothing is pulling him home. He does not feel like he should.