Sympathy For the Visitors

though i’ve no sympathy for the “devil” (as there exists no such thing), i got to feel that one must have sympathy for the visitors--- if any self-respecting alien felt the need to stop their space cruiser on the way to some interesting place, here, on this intergalactic equivalent of a foul smelling highway rest stop--- whose graffiti laden vending machine sitting out front, doesn’t even hold cans of the outdated soda pictures & whose bathroom filled with ex-pop stars jerking off to pictures of little boys, meth heads insufflating their life away, prostitutes sucking off old men or just unclean ****-stained walls, might not hold the luster that other wonderfully bright stars out there may shine throughout the universe, i would stand out in the middle of the parking lot, surrounded by airstrip lighting with flares bubbling fire in my hands waving up at the sky like a madman hoping they’d see me & know to fly on by & save themselves the disgust.