you, across the universe

Life in the solar system of Sagittarius A*: In this life, you are a carpenter. The small town you live in lies next to a nuclear plant, but this is not important. It is safe, and you think nothing of the silos as you build housing frames for new arrivals. In this life, Chernobyl melted down and Fukushima released radiation into the Pacific Ocean, but those are half a world away and nothing has ever happened here. Nothing ever happens here and you like it that way. We married on a summer day and when I kissed your lips I tasted sweat. We've known our friends since I was born and you have built the houses they have their children in. Their children know our children and we ignore the fact that our solar system has a black hole in the middle. We ignore the fact that asteroids have destroyed the earth before, broken off the chunk that became the moon. We ignore that it could happen again. Nothing ever happens here. Life near Kepler 16-b: Here, you are a data scientist. You can't imagine not orbiting two suns, though the papers say there are distant planets who belong to only one star. Imagine, only seeing one sunset. In this world, we have sent out signals searching for distant life, but no one has answered the call and sometimes it feels like we're alone in a cold, uncaring universe. The twin suns remind us of our own family: two suns nurturing one life. The galaxy here feels like a mother and you cannot imagine a god more caring than the pull of the universe. Life in TRAPPIST-1: From the surface of the planet, all six other planets are clearly visible. Some days, they line up just right and you can only see one. In this life, you are single-minded and you will get what you want at any cost. Fame and fortune are not goals but means to an end. You thank your lucky stars (and all of them are lucky, to shine so brightly they are seen light-years away) to be born beautiful. Some nights you look at the sky and wonder if anyone is looking back, and if they are, you want to know if they would understand you in a way that we cannot. In another life, across time or merely distance, do you shine dimmer to keep from burning out? Life Somewhere Inside the Andromeda Galaxy: Here, you know your galaxy will one day collide with another, an event predicted to happen far beyond the extent of your lifetime. Sometimes it hurts to think about a future so far away that all known will become unknown, anyone in this reality not remembering your existence other than a brief blip on the radar of time's passing. They think there is life in other galaxies, far from your home. This does not matter much when there is life here, walking in your front door and slinging warm arms around your neck. When there is life pressing its lips against your mouth and saying "I missed you while you were dreaming about the sky." Nothing happens here but the daily chore of living in a universe which can bring two people together and tear them asunder in less time than it takes to orbit a sun. Life in Centaurus A: Here, you think it would be funny if in some distant planets, you were so insignificant you were known for nothing more than "fifth brightest galaxy," if the radio waves you sent out were rejected as natural expulsions from gas giants and black holes. Imagine! To be so insignificant your movements were left untracked by god and government— end transmission, these thoughts are— Life in Bode's Galaxy: Another life surrounded by stars the distant other yous only imagine seeing! You live in boredom overflowing, plucking overripe fruit from strange trees with branches like arms, branches like claws, grasping. Some days you are grasping for straws. In an instant the world can change, drained of life by corporations who blame the gasping breaths of this city's constituents on space dust, factors out of control. Aching lungs are no one's problem. These problems are nothing to a world of war but until your lungs seized, there was peace so soft it felt like a heavy blanket. Some things are only stifling when a world refuses to change. Revolution is an android's dream and you are fully yourself, no crossed wires to blame for your small glitch of reason. The juice from purple fruits drips down your arms and you wonder how long before the trees wither. you, across the universe: In every life there is a common thread, a split consciousness. In the moments your eyes close to blink away dust or tears or dryness, you see glimpses of what could have been. The sky like a great sea separating you from yourself: there is no life you would choose but your own.