The Earth, drunk again,
trips on his orbit
falling this way and that,
spinning out of Sol,
landing in some shattered rocks;
in some distant skyless plane.
He extrudes a volcanic hiccup
while still stumbling,
spilling his oceans
all over the lap of Neptune.
He wipes some Pacific extinction
from the shores of his mouth and
attempts to hold himself North
long enough to say, "Good tides."
Alas, after too much Aurora,
he can not polar closer;
his breath of ash and seafood.
Mars embarrassed and angry
drifts into the Suns flares
for comfort.
The Earth, slipping on his own Ocean floor
falls flat on his space.
Jupiter asks the stratus of Venus,
but the judgmental Earth simply asks,
"What will you do about that spot on your face?"
The heavy weight champion, storming mad,
grabs Earth by his magnets and bends his pole.
That's when he blacked out.

Upon waking his globe was spinning,
and he had a splitting tectonic plate,
but he was home safe.

Luckily, Luna was the designated driver.

03/09/2012

Author's Note: Bahaha.

Posted on 03/09/2012
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