The Aliens of 2032

It all happened so suddenly and so undetectably that
no one knew what to do with the Aliens who
landed all over America in 2032.

A buzzing sound dominated the skies, and suddenly they were
in every village, town, and city.
Detecting no Imminent danger because the aliens looked
like cute and cuddly teddy bears and seemed affable,
the government held a meeting to decide what to do.

Before the meeting was over, the teddy bear aliens turned evil,
or always were, and shut down everything, the military and defense systems too with that buzzing sound.

Then fast as a second on a watch’s second hand, they captured humans everywhere,
Even the ones in the meeting
Even ones in airplanes
Even ones in submarines
Even ones in coal mines and
Even ones called preppers.
No one was safe. No one escaped.

At first, they cherry-picked the populace maybe for taste tests,
possibly for snacks.
Then with a round of unearthly howls, scarier than wolves, their
voracious appetites took over, and as if in an all-you-can-eat buffet,
they devoured a Guinness Book Record of 341,044, 641 humans in 30 seconds.

At 341,044,642, the total US population, they were too full to eat me.
The aliens, their appetites appeased, buzzed back to wherever
they came from and left me unmolested, unabducted, unprobed,
and uneaten – to my ever-grateful surprise.

Despite my luck, I was lonely until the population count was actually 341,044/643, a bureaucratic error, and another person survived.

By chance or a fortuitous fate, the other survivor was a woman.
I met her in my small town in Idaho, a 30s-something
hot woman named Mandy.
And we became a couple with everything in America ours for free.

Bob Boyd

Weary Old Soul

My old soul is weary
I’ve been alive too long
Friends of old all dead
Lives buried in insignificance
Stories lost in inexorable time
My old soul is weary
Years have become a fading blur
My demise approaching fast
Gladly I go, gladly I surrender
Hopes and dreams exhausted
My old soul is weary
A fading fossil of myself
The past reduced to dust
A present with little value
All the mountains climbed
My old soul is weary.

Bob Boyd

A Quick And Easy Death

All I want is a quick and easy death.

Not a protracted nursing home death
where I’d probably get dementia
before I died years later with
an obliterated mind and wasted body.

Not a lingering painful death
in chronic pain for months or years.

Not a miserable drawn-out death
where I’m supposed to be dead
in months but it drags on for years.

Not an expensive death that
costs me thousands before I die
and creditors come after me
on my deathbed.

Not a brought back to live death
that might bring me back worse
then when I was supposed to
be permanently dead.

Not a dramatic ICU death
with all that noise,
machinery and clamor or
a doctor slamming those
paddles on my chest
merely delaying my death.

I want a death like a massive
dead-in-a-second heart attack,
too quick for pain or fear
too quick for being helpless
and aware of the indignity
of being stuffed
in an ambulance.

Too quick for the painful
realization that my once
healthy body is doomed to
unhealthiness for the remainder
of my waning life ….
under the harsh lights and
frenzied ministrations
in the ER or the ICU.

The Assaults of Aging

Body wearing down arthritis setting in, joint and muscle straining
Balance out of whack, muscles weakening, wrinkling
Skin screwed, wrinkles and ugly aging spots everywhere
If you’re lucky, you’ll still have your hair and your teeth
Senior discounts only serve to validate what may not be clear to you
Sleep, waking in the night, risks of falls if meandering to the bathroom
Blood tests show many problems, a godawful cancer might be one of them
Examined and poked by gerontologists like a nonentity lab specimen
More doctors than ever, appointment after appointment after appointment
The memory firing only on 5 cylinders, days of senior moments, maybe dementia
The voice sounds weak or hoarse unless you’re lucky or genetically blessed
Once youthful looks, often pretty, now lost, new roles as nondescript grannies
Once handsome young men, now like paradise lost, looks gone forever
Friends and generational icons dying, depressing reminders nothing lasts
You wonder when you’ll be next, your immorality forsaken, your mortality waning
If unbearably sick, or in unbearable pain, or dying in a nursing home ….
You might pray you are next.

Bob Boyd

Ruth

I remember when I learned you died
A lone obit on the net

You died too soon
I think it was the smoking

Though we hadn’t been
for many years
I felt pangs for you

I wish it never happened
I wish you could have
had a longer life
and maybe kids
and a good husband

I hope you have something better
wherever you are

Though our love
was beyond retrievable
my heart mourns
for you
having such
an early demise.

Bob Boyd

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