A Poem: Serving Breakfast to Earth’s First Extraterrestrial Visitor 

Here’s a poem I wrote in November of 2023. I thought of it again upon viewing images of the dolphins that greeted the astronauts on March 18, 2025 when they finally arrived back to planet Earth.

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Serving Breakfast to Earth’s First Extraterrestrial Visitor 

There was a lottery. 

I was chosen 

to serve 

breakfast to our First Visitor. 

Not so simple.

Keep it simple. 

Brioche Bread:

Thick. Sturdy. Still tender. 

It absorbs yolk best. 

Whole milk gives texture. 

Cinnamon and Vanilla:

Not optional. 

Salt, tiny pinch:

Necessary. 

French toast

isn’t from France, I will explain. 

Whisk. Butter. Dunk. Soak. 

Lightly toasted. Tender.

Dusted with powder: 

Soft sugar.

That won’t be enough!

With eggs, then. 

Yes! Eggs! 

Scrambled and stuffed: 

Cheddar and gouda. And chives. And green onions.

That won’t be enough!

Blush-crimson strawberries and fresh blueberries!

Our earth is filled with abundance.  

Blueberries are not blue:

They are a superberry purple, I will explain. 

Here’s syrup or butter cream: 

Explosion of contradictory tastes. 

What we put it in our mouths 

is sometimes a memory

we swallow with each gulp 

of fresh squeezed orange juice 

that takes us back 

to Morocco or wherever the memory goes. 

But we remain inside a box:

The juice is not actually fresh; we pretend. 

The potatoes will bring you comfort 

even though where you are is in the middle of our world

falling apart.

And you—we–keep wanting to go back to a different time

and 

in fact, you—I—wonder

Why is this extraterrestrial being, you, even here? 

We want to go back. 

We will go where you came from. 

“Blueberries,” you finally say after you are done with the eggs, potatoes and french toast. 

“Nothing like blueberries where I come from.”