Just Along the Highway

((a poem for those interested in Unidentified Flying Objects))


We stop and pick up some fruit

on our way to the western shore.

South Dakota is a long ways

from California, so we think.

Perhaps, that is what all the fuss

is about when people see

disks, tubes and triangles

floating soundlessly

through our beautiful skies.

Other folks, well, not really folks,

stopping by our planet to buy

some fruit, fill up on water,

whatever it is we have to offer.

Sure, they could have stopped

in an invisible mode,

but that's how they pay us

for the stuff they take from us:

cow parts, photos of our colons,

recordings of our screams,

cherished video of our astonishment

they get to play to their brood

of whatever the heck they are.

They've started a whole industry

of book publishing and photo swapping.

Experts collect a few coins

from personal appearances.

Old soldiers get to tell

what they weren't supposed to tell.

Autopsies, not withstanding,

are probably one of the many reasons

they don't set down

on some Washington lawn.

After all, who wants a cold or flu.

Have you ever seen one of those things

with chicken pox?

I suspect for them

it becomes condor pox

with a side of cow pox

from which they grow horns

that drop away when they're healed.

“Don't pick at your horns, dear.”

We've broadcast

dozens of Hollywood horrors

during which our hero

eliminates planetsful of oozing

monsters, which to them

seem more like neighbors

with whom to share a barbeque

of abductee. Yum.

Be sure to remove all those trackers

and little whatevers

you insert in our brains

through our noses.

We wouldn't want the kids,

if they are kids,

to choke on one,

necessitating a trip

halfway across the galaxy

to a hospital for care

where parking one of those

big triangles has to be

a serious problem.

You think the notes you get

are nasty when you park

your Chevy in two spots,

just imagine crop circles

in fifty million

languages and every word

describing the nasty

things they'll do to their colons.

It may also be a reason

they come to earth:

free parking with no wait times:

Cow Parts and Colon Pics,

open 24 hours.

We accept your

Universal Express Card.

Barry G. Wick