Diplomatic Dancing

I danced with an Alien At the Diplomat’s Summer Ball Though I’m not sure Dancing Correctly described it at all. A dancing partner with six feet And thirty six naked toes? Trying to be graceful while avoiding Kicking or stepping on any of those. I’m not quite sure I appreciated The appeal or the charm Of dancing with a creature with Tentacles instead of arms. I was so grateful when It mumbled its thanks Then wandered off to recharge The gas in its breathing tanks. Another one was waiting To step up in its place And I had to accept With a show of grace. We mooched around in silence, We shambled round and round, As out Universal Translators Had both totally broken down. They say silence is golden But it doesn’t help pass time When your dancing partner Exudes a green sweaty slime. The next time I’ll throw a sickie If I’m given the chance Rather than be on duty at The Aliens Diplomatic Dance. Diplomatic Dancing A duty to avoid But then life is boring On our little asteroid Embassy At least we’ve made progress We’re not the only sentient race As we practice our Diplomacy Here on the fringes of Outer Space