The beamships equal love poem I said I'd post that I'm just certain everyone is holding their breath for...

I Dream Beamships Equal Love

The Florida coastline is sinking;

its breath a famous conch shell,

seeks the rusty swing-sets of its past.

It takes out an ad in the Miami Herald.

The rest-stop could not understand

why I began ovulating Polaroids

of Vulcan-earred Asket from Timars.

Even the highway produced a conspiracy,

which I carried like a bottle of Sangria

to Billy Meier's birthday extravaganza.

We all sat on the lawn spitting out orange rinds,

and pointing to his trees.

"One was in falling-leaf trajectory right there, remember?"

He remembered.

He was amazed to learn his name

was mentioned in the ad. He looked like Santa,

the blinking lights of his beard.

He could not understand Spanish,

but he smiled and nodded.

He was so full of birthday cake.

When he arrived in Florida,

he became judgmental of its palms.

Now, he refuses to believe William Burroughs

died in Kansas. The lights of his beard never lie.

"Billy," they whisper, "Kansas."