Last week I mailed a letter to my alien abductors
casually mentioning that it had been a while
and if they weren’t doing anything
I had a free weekend coming up.
I received a cordial but firm note today
that simply read, “We’ve learned all we can
from you, and do not wish to pursue
further investigations. Best of luck, Oort.”
I tore it up and burned it in an ashtray.
After all the trouble I went through
to get that address, you’d think I’d deserve more
than a form letter with an auto-signature.
early morning wake up needed tomorrow
for a work day
with little promise to it —
and yet, unable to sleep.
Three cigarettes left,
the wet hiss
of hard rain on warm asphalt
discouraging any desire to go out
for a fresh pack.
Shit on TV, shit on the radio,
and bored with all the music
in the house.
bore and bore again.
So, decision time:
turn in to toss for a hundred hours,
or bore on to see if something can happen,
to strive to find mercy
where none appears to be?