Rudimentary robots on Mars
grind through sorrel dust
on a quest for the next higher ground
or large boulder field.
One drags a frozen wheel
As it limps toward the sunlight.
Far overhead,
another robot
discovers erosion patterns
and evidence of great floods
in delta fans of effluvium
and not a wisp of water in thin air.

But here
two bananas have gone just beyond ripe
and when I peel them
they release plumes in the kitchen.
I slice them into a bowl
and drench them with thick cream.
I spoon them.