You overhear two young lovers chewing chewing something.
They are happy as two worms in a rotten apple. You overhear their kisses,
followed by chimp sounds and vaguely dolphin-like expressions of love.
You listen to the sandals of a lonely woman clop-clop
down the Kubrickian eternity of the cereals aisle.
You hear an invisible young man on the other side of these pickles
tell an invisible young woman that honey never goes bad,
it can last for thousands of years, even better than mummies,
that they should submerge their bodies in it ASAP,
do it in bee slop, sleep together in this amber ocean,
learn to breathe it. He tells her she’d make a lovely honey mermaid.
They giggle in the stoned beams of the light of their moon
circling the earth at a height somewhere between five
and six feet, and when they turn the corner, you see then
they are singularly unattractive and gorgeous astronauts
from another world, which will probably eventually collide
with our own, so BE NICE.