The sky is pink.
The rocks are red.
There ain’t no birdies
Overhead.
It’s bare. It’s bleak.
Don’t see no plants…
Or other green
Inhabitants.
It’s desolate.
The air is scant.
Except for me—
No life’s extant.
It’s dusty, dry.
I need a beer.
Houston,
Get me outta here!
INTERPLANETARY FAX
TO: Pluto
DATE: August 24, 2006
RE: Demotion to Dwarf Status
Sorry, Pluto, you’re way too small.
You’re just an itty-bitty ball…
An insignificant cosmic dot…
A speck in the Milky Way. You’re not
Considered a planet anymore.
Here’s your pink slip; there’s the door.
You’re off the list. Goodbye! Adieu!
Don’t go making a hullabaloo.
There’s nothing…nothing…you can do.
Accept your fate.
DATE: August 24, 2006
RE: Demotion to Dwarf Status
Sorry, Pluto, you’re way too small.
You’re just an itty-bitty ball…
An insignificant cosmic dot…
A speck in the Milky Way. You’re not
Considered a planet anymore.
Here’s your pink slip; there’s the door.
You’re off the list. Goodbye! Adieu!
Don’t go making a hullabaloo.
There’s nothing…nothing…you can do.
Accept your fate.
FROM: IAU
(NOTE: IAU stands for the International Astronomical Union)
Posts from earlier this week:
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Irene Latham has the Poetry Friday Roundup at Live Your Poem.