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Rated: E · Poetry · Sci-fi · #1941292
Right time, wrong place.
When Zorhahn Proxima, Rigel’s piloting ace,
fired his retro rockets while flying through space,
he descended from orbit around planet three
in an unexplored region of the galaxy.

Back on Rigel, the being in charge of the flight
radioed and told Zorhahn things would be all right.
(Proxima expressed concern that he was off course
in that this planet wasn’t the right signal source.)

They had received a signal on Rigel one day
from this region of space twenty light years away.
The benevolent signal to Rigel was sent
in the interest of peace and with helpful intent.

There was one stipulation--the good signal said--
that they land there at noon, with the sun overhead.
And so Zorhahn descended, he would be there soon;
he adjusted his watch, it was fifteen to noon.

Zorhahn landed his spaceship, the Flare Omicron,
at the edge of a city on someone’s back lawn.
And directly he heard these metallic-like tones;
he looked out and he noticed a crowd throwing stones.

So he radioed Rigel with utmost concern;
he had landed yet he was now doing a burn.
The apology that came was sincere and true:
“Sorry Zorhahn, the signal came from planet two.”


24 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
July 3, 2013




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