a different planet


Could we ever learn to read their runes?

To test the texture of those shy, reluctant smiles

and guess their distance to a kiss?


They send smoke signals,

talk of pow-wow

sharpen fork-tongue

go to wigwam . . .

(Hope cavalry come soon.)


We hear hieroglyphs, hexadecimal,

Vulcan and Venusian,

live long and prosper language

- our mother tongue falling deaf


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