a blotch of messed-up loves
shouldn't be on my record,

i tried hard.

but i'm from another planet.
i'm Venutian, they're Martian.

when i yin,
they yang.

like ships in the night
passing would've been
such sweet pleasure,
hearing only the wail
of the horn-blast announcing
your presence in a soupy fog.

when, in broad daylight,
our ships always collided;
we, every time, sank to
darkened depths,
green with opalesence,
black from no light of Hope.

05/02/2005