Take us to your leader. Make it fast.
Our gazmatron has flashed a danger screen
suggesting human error. We’re aghast
at cosmic perturbations rarely seen
in hair-and-tooth dimensions. You’ve maligned
galactic etiquette. We must demand
you cease all atom smashing. Dear mankind —
this means the CERN Collider must be canned.
The telos tells us Beingness will fail
at nihilistic agency. The law
is clear. No one can pry the serpent’s tail
from its appointed terminus — the maw.
(You’re lucky. Xer’s pride themselves on tact.
The guys from Planet Z would have attacked.)