sympathy for the visitors

na.

though i’ve no sympathy for the “devil”

(as there exists no such thing),

i got to feel that one must have

sympathy for the visitors---

if any self-respecting alien

felt the need to stop their space cruiser

on the way to some interesting place,

here,

on this intergalactic equivalent of a

foul smelling

highway

rest stop---

whose graffiti laden vending machine

sitting out front,

doesn’t even hold cans of the

outdated soda pictures &

whose bathroom filled with ex-pop stars

jerking off to pictures of little boys,

meth heads insufflating their life away,

prostitutes sucking off old men or

just unclean s**t-stained walls,

might not hold the luster

that other wonderfully bright stars out there

may shine throughout the

universe,

i would stand out in the middle of the

parking lot,

surrounded by airstrip lighting

with flares bubbling fire in my hands

waving up at the sky like a madman

hoping they’d see me & know

to fly on by &

save themselves the disgust.