When The Phone The Rings
when the phone rings
it’s telemarketers from Mars
their little green lips
offer red dust
cheap robotic explorers
from Russia
no one's heard about
I tell them no
I’ve got plenty
of red dust
and space robots
well I have no place to put them
still they say
thank you for your time
them Martians seem polite
but in person I’m sure they’re slimy
and smell bad
their ray guns cocked
2 Comments:
I like this poem. Great.
E. Bernal
Thanks,Esmeralda.
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