• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 12

We are all aliens

In E.T. land we would be aliens
no different than how Nicaraguans
crossing the U.S. border are perceived,
no different than a liberal New Yorker
who dares to live in red state Alabama or a
Catholic who wanders into a Buddhist temple.

My dog treats all unrecognized scents
in his backyard as alien, the smell of fried chicken
is alien to my vegetarian wife, compromise
these days is alien to everyone, and someday
when we have toxically left the world
uninhabitable for humankind, creatures, aliens,
will descend and find it strange we would
pollute our own nest to the point of extinction.

Labeling things as alien, the other, is an act
of superiority, it says we are the it, all else is
inferior, a threat, to be labeled unfit, to be
feared, to be runoff, as we, human but
inhuman, are the basis of all existence,
blessed by some version of a supreme being
as the anointed, the revered, the chosen.

In an alternative universe, we would honor
and welcome the alien, understand that only eating
chicken soup, only wearing one cut of jeans is boring,
numbing, sterile, and devoid of reaching nirvana.


We are all aliens

Honoring the other welcomes the potential of sipping
a deeper broth of existence, gives flight to thoughts
and feelings currently denied and distained.