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
Copyright © Terry Ireland | Year Posted 2023
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