THE PROLOGUE

Not so long ago from now
a space ship went from Earth to Kroh,
a planet long ignored by one and all.

For though it lay
but one light week away,
and was inhabited
by creatures thought to be
intelligent as men,
whose air was oxygen,
who lived, like us, on land and sea,
Kroh failed to stir our curiosity
as did the moon and Mars.

Those rocky spheres among our stars,
each with vistas sharp and spare,
peopled by a greenish race
that made their lair
in every crevice and canal
and rode their UFO's
like perfect hellions,
abducting dozens of Roswellians,
remained our endlessly
renewable frontiers.

Whereas Kroh, a planet reckoned at
a billion population,
its rocks worn smooth
by creatures walking, and some sitting,
this late into its faunal evolution
lacked baseball parks and football fields
and evidence of air pollution.

On the night Kroh was discovered
(by a boy named Marvin Kroh),
the planet, swimming in a distant sky,
was contacted by hackers
and sent back this strange reply:

Yeah sure. Feel free.
Come right on up. BYOB.

Let's fight that bunch of losers,
cried the pundits on TV;
send those tedious non-boozers
to a place called History.

Smiled the right-wing politicians,
This is when it makes good sense
to take billions out of Schooling
to bestow upon Defense.
But alas, their legislation,
like an innocent mosquito,
got slapped down late one Friday
by a presidential veto.

So after that the journalists
and congress did agree
they'd better forget war
and keep their waking hours free
to monitor the DOW and NASDAQ
and the S&P,
plus those emerging markets
and Japan's economy.

The years went by until one night
a young teacher of astronomy,
wishing on the evening star
for his grant to be approved,
realized that if making money and not war
was what man was put here for,
astronomy could lead the nation.

In an instant he'd rewritten
his entire application,
named his project
'Inter-Global Market Hunting'.
The result? Was given funding
that surpassed all expectation
to construct a modest space ship
and take experts off to Kroh,
to learn if that small planet
was politically ripe,
its currencies robust enough
and of a stripe
to enter into trade relations
with the Earth and all its nations.

His blue-ribbon Delegation
was a rainbow; had some humans,
had a Duck from Washington, D.C.,
two Crocodiles from YO,
and what they all were feeling
ranged from horror to delight
to find themselves en route to Kroh
one starry, starry night.

 

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