but it really only extends as
far as my imagination lets it.
Like all adequate SciFi ideas
it functions as a metaphor that
mines for a deeper meaning as
the curious eye skitters along the
surface of the paperback’s cover
reveling in the exoticized illustration.
Aliens are never really alien, btw.
They are aspects of ourselves
that we project onto the universe.
This projection returns to land
in an empty field and thrill us with
mysterious means and motives,
fascination with their inscrutability
reflecting our own lack of insight
into the problem of being human


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