In light of what a pain in the ass
has been, you've decided not to let
ten strangers fend for themselves
against a man in a rubber suit
called a space alien, in a British
science film from the sixties. It
came from a crack in the wall
and is still whispering as if
the wind could find its way
in the dark on a night like this.
At the end, everyone comes back
alive and takes turns on stage, seated,
soberly assuring you that it's all okay,
none of this is real. And it isn't. You
know - you've known since shortly
after it was said. It couldn't be real.
We wouldn't be watching it like this,
coming towards you, nothing we can
do will change what happens - we'd
be living it. Maybe then we could
have done something.
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