Sunday, January 8, 2017


Letter from a Red-Shifted Star

You flew so high that you flew into time,
Like a fly caught in slow glass,
You may emerge someday when the sun is cold,
And I am dead or transformed, and no longer in love with you;
Something we will have in common, finally.

And the Velvet Underground, in Dallas,
Football fans all, chagrined at a lopsided game,
Sang about sex, drugs, major surgery, and rock-and-roll.
Their dangerous music,
Which led many children to ruin,
Hardly seems different from Perry Como to kids today.

I don't even like your dog,
Which I will be walking twice a day,
Until the stupid thing dies.
I couldn’t kill it, though I tried.
Damn right I sold the antique DVDs, china,
And all the house plants;
The 3D never needs to be watered.

I will keep the old CDs though,
All those that work; you didn't even like Frank Zappa
But I dig his quaint attempts to shock.
The things they thought outrageous a century ago!
Listen closely, here's my bullet:
I never needed you.

First printed in Abyss and Apex 12, 2004

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