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It is pure nonsense to believe
that the aliens can be conquered by
an eye gouge, a testicular squeeze
or a nipple twist. The tragic theorem
is awfully ugly, a paradox of ugly, universal
and unequivocal, paranormal and pathetic.
The mysterious “intruders” are not unknown.
Like in the movies, the mysterious intruders
are among us. So leave your heirlooms behind
for the looters. Bring your songbooks. Learn to
smile wide. After all, perhaps the aliens are under
obligation to intervene. Perhaps they are here to
free us from our program. Perhaps we
should pity them, sing along children.
Or perhaps we should gather our bayonets,
machetes, knives, scythes, cutthroat razors.
Perhaps we should prepare a place to disembowel and
incinerate them. Perhaps we should prepare ourselves
a place for disembowelment. AK-47s, blindfolds,
and pump-action shotguns may prove prudent.
Whatsoever the resources, weapons of
opportunity will be wielded. Improvise
child, you’re only limited by imagination
and the hour is certainly short, our
screams turning into specks of moonlight
as we are dragged away by our neighbors
