V: a poem about love and aliens.

Rediscovered a poem I wrote from a while back, for a Brit-Korean gal I used to hold a torch for, in Taiwan. Somehow it is also related to a conversation with my Korean then-roommate about the difference in English between "corny" and "cheezy" while we were in the youth hostel watching a late-night rerun of "V: The Final Battle."

V (Taipei Hostel)

You had a moment laughing there where you made the elevator nervous.
Maybe it expected you to put your hand over your mouth.
Maybe it resented being called a lift like someone who finds you on the street.
Elevators have many rules and when you opened your mouth it slowed to a dewdrop,
hit the stop button, outed the lights, and the security camera's red gaze
found the soap opera story of the raven hair girl who lost
her true love and was saved by a dog.

It'll be a catastrophe. Imagine the end of life as you knew it.
The ice cream man you chased as a kid became a truck to collect all that sweet garbage.
All those cozy dripping buildings, covered smiles, infrared fruit stands, racist toothpaste and
cold bowls of chocolate flakes that hold me together are blown to bits.
We all agree that the alien queen on TV looks a bit like Wonder Woman.
But what does she look like on the inside? What if she's a woman pretending to eat people?
What if the second between a kiss and a couple inches bite off the face she considers, dreams maybe.
When she puts herself together in the morning for marshmallow hearts how do you know
if you're a boy girl snake vegetarian alone or apart when there
so many
little pieces?