Hear me, humans: I am an alien.
I am here to watch your movements
and document your ways.
I am in charge of secret interrogations.
Here is my method:
To take you from your tallest buildings.
To walk you back to the ocean,
where we will gaze at reinvented flame.
We will look again at the stars, in awe.
I will interrogate you on your experience
as if it was the basis of all human life.
And then, will we return to the water?
Will we fold our bodies up, shed these limbs
grow tails, gills, and swim?
Let us devolve into plankton.
This is what I have been assigned to do,
and the silver disks are hovering
amidst the white and yellow pinpricks
in the fabric of your night.
There is only one moon here; but
there just as easily could have been two,
or eighteen, plus a ring of colored gas.
I will walk with you, through communism
to nomads, as the cities fall back into forests
I will scavenge you a cigarette.
In the water we will be disembodied,
deoxyribose and phosphate molecules
unraveling, sending nitrogen rails
spiraling to distant parts of the sea.
I am enamored by guanine.
As the sea contracts, I will show you
how it is you are all so very similar;
as the dna staircases crash against
crests and peaks of shores.
Where has all the rain come from?
How can I show you the raindrop-
the single raindrop, that led us all
to you?
-e.
