Sitting on this table here Is an orange It is the sun And it is the only orange from here To New York Where another orange sits On another table Sweet and juicy
If you cross the room From my orange You will be the earth Only a trillion times too big And no matter how bad you want To grab that orange and Peel it You canβt
If you half that distance You are Venus In love with the orange And half again You are burning From its pored skin
If you are earth again and leave the room You are Mars, then farther still Made of gas If you jog outside your house And down the block Your breath will form rings And moons Around your body
And if you so choose To pace 800 more lengths And shrink to the size Of sand You can be Pluto The Hungry Cold and spinning