When younger,
I imagined aliens
watching our world
like TV. They would think
cars the higher life forms,
with so many colors and sizes,
weaving across old sentiments.
We’re proud to serve a world
in motion, I once read on an
interstate advertisement. How
strange to think of our
motion in a car’s motion on a
globe’s piteous rotation.
The image too boring to
liken to ants. How those aliens
would shriek when awkward
shaped lumps would lumber
from metal specimen.
Symbiotic or parasitic?
they would ask, and I,
though young and insightful,
would not know the answer.
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