10 to 2 AM, X, Yogi DMT, and a box of Krispy Kremes,
in my "need to know" pose, just outside of Area 51
Contemplating the whole "chosen people" thingy
when a flaming stealth banana split the sky
like one would hope but never really expect
to see in a place like this.
Cutting right angle donuts on a dime
and stopping right at my Birkenstocks,
and me yelping...
Holy ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ ♥♥♥♥!
Then the X-Files being,
Looking like some kind of blue-green Jackie Chan
with Isabella Rossellini lips, and breath that reeked of
vanilla Chig Champa
Did a slow-mo Matrix descent
Outta the butt end of the banana vessel
And hovered above my bug-eyes, my gaping jaw,
and my sweaty L. Ron Hubbard upper lip,
and all I could think was:
"I hope Uncle Martin here doesn't notice
that I pissed my ♥♥♥♥♥♥' pants."
So light in his way,
Like an apparition, that
He had me crying out,
"♥♥♥♥ me
It's gotta be
the Deadhead Chemistry
The blotter got right on top of me
Got me seein' E-♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥'-T!"
And after calming me down
with some orange slices
and some fetal spooning,
E.T. revealed to me his singular purpose.
He said, "You are the Chosen One,
the One who will deliver the message.
A message of hope for those who choose to hear it
and a warning for those who do not."
Me. The Chosen One?
They chose me!!!
And I didn't even graduate from ♥♥♥♥♥♥' high school.