Roswell

some alien heads rolled  
after that fiasco in Roswell
and a once decorated saucer pilot
wound up driving a cab in his home town
and mowing lawns on the side
and spending his late nights buffing floors at a bank
anything
just to hang on
to try to make a living
and keep the lights on
and food on the table
and the wife said it was okay
that she knew it wasn't his fault
but he could tell things had changed
just something in her big black alien eyes
told him that the magic had gone with the money
 
and it was also obvious in the little things she did
and didn't do
like those headaches at bedtime
and goddamn, she'd never had headaches  
and since when did she work overtime?
and she said, "Yeah, well, we need the money now."
and he wondered if he was just being paranoid
or if she was really cheating -- if some schmuck was banging his wife
while he was out busting his tired old extraterrestrial balls
trying to keep his end of the bargain
but then who could blame her for needing something else
after what he'd put her through?
 
and he thought every day
and every night
about those last seconds at the wheel
when his whole life suddenly went to shit
and there was fire in the hole
and the ground was rising fast
and he tried to pull out of it
but it happened so quickly
and floor buckled  
and the glass flew
and then his crew lay broken, scattered in that field
and the fleet scrambled
trying to get the survivors out
before the earthlings rushed in with their flashbulbs and scalpels
and primitive bullshit devices
and he made it with only seconds to spare
and thought, "Thank god!"
but nowadays he wished he'd just died in that crash
because, hell, things just weren't the same