If Aliens Were Real

If aliens were real
Not in a big-headed boogeyman probe-you-in-the-night way
Or a blow-up-the-planet-and-eat-all-the-children way
But a civilized
Galactic Federation of Everyone Getting Along But Not Very Well way
I’d go and get one of the makeup guys
From Star Trek or Stargate or Babylon 5
And we’d makeup an alien
Resplendent in wrinkles and horns and scales and fins
And every other feature or protuberance you could think of
And I’d be the only one there was

I’d visit the alien airports
As spaceships slick with ether-sweat touched down
Disgorging diplomats and ambassadors
And aliens whose sports became wildly popular on other planets
And I’d tell them how I was the last of my kind

Some would turn awkwardly away
Mentally scanning their histories for unremembered genocides
And hoping they were not to blame
Others would clap me on the back with a friendly tentacle and reassure me that
“It’s a big universe out there, I’m sure you’ll find someone.”
And others still would point me to
That collector who’s always looking for unique specimens

I’d hang around the space-bars
Seeking out likely humanoids
Especially those races whose members resemble
Attractive human women of just a slightly different hue
Clad in eminently practical spacesuit bikinis
We’d share one too many Martian martinis
And bandy terms around like “similarity,” “anatomy,” and “genetic compatibility”
Then do our best to save the species
Under soft and sentient sheets

Eventually I’d come down with a terrible disease
Completely untreatable
But oh, how they’d try
They’d make me the poster-child for extinction
On the planets and systems where they cared about that sort of thing
Doctors from all over the Milky Way
Would make their way across the galaxy
Hoping to set themselves apart
From the ol’ hive mind back home
Interested benefactors could make their donations
To an off-world account on a backwoods little planet called Earth

The symptoms would start slowly
The crusting of the skin
All six limbs gradually solidifying
Until, late at night, when no one’s there to see
The final stages of advanced calcification occur
And I fossilize in my own bed
My funereal friends would weep
Filling the air with ultrasonic wails
Mourning my stony figure
And hopefully not looking too close for chisel marks

They’d mount my remains on a pedestal
A statuesque memorial to a passing legacy
And, passing by, they’d tut-tut to each other
Reassuring themselves that they’d do better next time
And every now and again
One of those humans would happen by
(Since everyone’s learned to be more tolerant of the lesser species these days)
And he’d sit on the hovering bench across the way
Ruminating on a race that never was, and would never be again

This entry was posted in Humor, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to If Aliens Were Real

  1. Excellent.
    Well-written 🙂

  2. Pingback: Save Yourself Five Minutes and Set Yourself On Fire Now | Mindless Productivity

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