me and Ricky stepped out for a smoke
it was well misty, with a lot of spooky frog-croak
then suddenly the frogs stopped
and the fags from our fingers dropped
as a spaceship descended
and all the trash cans upended

an alien slithered out
looking like a cross between a trout
and an octopus
it was quite a shock to us

‘which one of you shithead’s Ricky?’
it spluttered, its icky mouthparts sticky
I gave it a tissue
‘thanks’ it said ‘an allergy issue’

I pointed to Ricky
who was looking a bit panicky
‘come on then’ it said, ‘I’m way behind schedule’
rolling its eye and waving a tentacle

so I said goodbye to Ricky
which was morally quite tricky
but if an alien asks for your friend by name
you can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same

they were gone as quickly as turning off a torch
and I was left smoking alone on the porch

anyway

I got a text from Ricky yesterday
from somewhere in the region of Alpha Centauri
‘having a great time seeing the sights
I was angry at first but it turned out alright
we’re heading back now and I’ll tell you plenty
I won’t have aged but you’ll be a hundred and twenty’