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A pump in his pocket keeps him alive,
bilge of old sea water from a dying planet.
He drops a quarter in the meter each hour.

They opened his chest once. The doctor
didn't like what he saw, so he removed
what mattered: a silver coin, old pocket
watch, and a portrait of the Queen.
Each was examined, photographed
sent to NASA for testing.

At night he slips his human skin, hangs
it in the closet next to his one good suit
he keeps for court dates and funerals.

He is ancient, even by earth standards.
There's been no transmission in decades.


But when he's alone, blinds pulled, doors
and windows locked, he is free
to be what he is: a fish faced monster
with Raptor scales who drinks Dewar's,
listens to Mozart, searches the lonely skies.

Kenneth---


i wanted to move on quickly, i'm anything but a science fiction fan. but i kept coming back, and back.

but this so "human."

He is ancient, even by earth standards.
There's been no transmission in decades.
Everyone he has ever known has died.

my line,

every body I know
by first name is dead.


the best of any genre, is the ability to create in terms of human emotion, --fear, love, acceptance, remorse, rejection...etc.

this poem does that. indeed, like the movie Alien, which i saw many times.

congrats.


bernie

Its good to see you back Bernie. I do recall that stellar line.

Bernie out of respect for you, I removed that line.
My memory " I am the oldest living person I know by first name." Its possible i picked it up unconsciously.

Oh Kenneth---

please don't remove that line...in no way does it infringe....i mentioned my line only as a comparison...you found another way to say something important that i never thought.

bernie

Eh. OK.