If an E.T

of the famed, crop circle kind,

were to land

right smack on your hemp

“duck in marsh” welcome mat;

gravitating

to your particular

wobbly scenario.

Some sort of sameness

coming through;

open invitation

to everyone

with a good, broad attitude.

And you went to investigate

a forbidden dance of anxiety,

like a salmon

spawning,

knowing,

the sound was not

in the limits of your town.

What would be the first,

tiny, insect, winged sound

trying to climb

to attention to speak?

When it held out

a three finger, luminescent

greeting

and saw something in pink,

spongy things.

And thick, green, facial mud

like new young cement

setting such

a muscle conniption;

and said “gurkqzkggee,”

not bad!

And, you coughed up

all your golden years,

those peaceful memories at once.

And said “oh my God,”

second guessed to yourself;

I shouldn’t have worn

that ragged, purple, gardenia

house dress today.

This could be the start

of something big…

strangers in the night

and all of that, not!