Once more through the hopper we go,
to pilot spaceships through sulphur snow
and cavort with elephantine, red-eyed
grubs who wave thin black tentacles
As we go home by way of the quantum
indeterminacy box. I was farmed for this stuff!
Soon, soon, the laser beams, criss-crossed,
will grid through and chop me to bits...
Oh, look! Is this a chunk of knuckle
from a previous excursion? He said
he'd packed my body seventeen times in ice --
usually a bullet is how he would murder me.
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