From a strange planet - 20

A love poem for E8 Grønbakken.

There is a glow.

The glow reminds me of Thomas Ligotti.

Everything reminds me of Thomas Ligotti.

The glow is outside and not inside.

Is that a problem?

In the evening the glow grows.

It gets stronger.

It gets bigger.

It occupies the area.

It erases and blinds.

It makes white. It makes snow.

There is a curve in the road.

At night other lights appear.

They have sparks.

They speak with the glow.

There are poles.

Two poles, one pole.

They stand in the middle.

They do nothing.

There is snow.

Hey snow, why do you cover everything?

Why are your mounds so round? So light?

Why is the shed so straight? So dark?

There is a curve in the road.

Hey curve, why do you change direction?

Why is your arc so round?

Why is the shed so straight?

There is snow.

There is a mountain in the distance.

Why is it far?

Why is it there and not here?

It is far because it looks like the surface of Mars.

A Martian mountain.

The snow melts.

Goodbye snow, goodbye winter.

I hate to see you go.

Before there was light.

Now the road turns dark.

Now the curve turns dark.

The shed likes that.

There is a one big shed.

And there are two small sheds.

And a house in the background.

They talk.

And listen.

And wait.

For winter.

For snow.

There is dust.

There is sun.

The dust is cold. The sun is cold.

It's Martian dust.

The background is green.

There is life on Mars.

There are potholes.

They turn to puddles when it rains.

When there is no rain, there are no puddles.

But the potholes are still there.

Now invisible. But present.

And waiting.

Waiting for rain.

Waiting for snow.

On Mars there is enough time to wait.