The Zero Gravity Nightclub is our time
travel on Saturday night. UFO’s and
alien Grays, other dimensions of
light and shadow, like the
Twilight Zone.
Waitresses in tight, gold spandex,
and a silver laser ball spreading
blue light beams, under which
we dance the night away. It’s
not too much to ask, among
this sprawling miscellany
of people.
We will sit
at the Star Trek
bar, where we often
see bedraggled, old men
who, like Vulcans, never smile.
A real big bang this place, with
flying saucers overhead, not
like the glasses in wooden
racks suspended from
the ceiling.
Enough music from the Internet
Jukebox for even beings on
distant worlds. The beat
is rock, and we get lost
in space. Yet Elton
John brings us
back to Earth
with Rocket
Man.
We have Zero Gravity
fun, like we are riding
comet tails, like we
are warping from
planet to planet.
Yet the gravity
overwhelms,
when worlds
collide.
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