electric aliens

with talons of deep pink
and pupils of darting ink
they lept around the moon

with leopard skin of plastic
and nails of such elastic
they punched a hole into the moon

with yells of screeching clams
and ferocity of sherpan rams
they began to attack the moon

with a sudden hush of painted awe
they all stood silent and hushedly saw
liquid spurt out of the moon

with the viscosity of frozen tea
the rainbow sludge flew gleefully
at the spectators surrounding the moon

they came out of their trance
and began their tarantella dance
happily drinking the juice of the moon

but alas by the rays of the morn
when the sun the color of corn,
shone on the face of the moon

on the ground, there were small holes everywhere
large, dirty, pockmarks, permanently flared
and there was no one to be seen on the moon


-Pamplemousse