Aliens
Sometimes when my head is hissing and buzzing,
It is not the steam radiator nor the electrical short circuit
Inevitably shuts down heat and light,
But the flashes of old me
Who could get things done
Not the new me concerned with maintenance,
Oil changes, keeping all the fluids running,
Trips to the social security office,
Devouring AARP newsletters,
Brezhnev in exile;
But the new/old me who connects the dots
And actually knows where more of the dots are
Than the old me who hoped he caught a few
And the rest were fly balls
And not impending invasions.
I find the aliens interesting conversationalists,
We are equally concerned with global health --
They because they would like to take it home,
Me because it’s the only home I know and
I am an earthling after all.
Nevertheless, this ball game is getting heated, electrified
By money flowing one way, people the other,
And the friction is the cause of global warming;
We are happy the torture is happening out of sight,
But the aliens have super-duper multidimensional vision.
They can spell Guantanamo. |