Analog, Astounding and the rest -
if I looked up from the pages
I saw the walls of my room expand
to the edges of the universe.
Homework was delayed:
my hands were full, with a blaster
and a perspex-helmeted bikini girl.
Later, it didnít bother me
That the Earth women werenít interested.
There were always grateful Martian Princesses.
My jobs were crap, but temporary:
my prospects faster than light.
What happened? I donít recognise this planet.
Most of my life is red-shift Doppler.
Why, of all places, did I land here?
If you have any comments on this poem, David Whippman would be pleased to hear