The Third Eye

      



A freak-out chill would cover me like ice.
The diner cook took off his paper hat.
He turned and winked at me, not once but twice —
a third eye kept upon me where I sat.

"What do you do with that third eye, oh sir?
What can you see that humans cannot see?"
"For you, mere human, life is but a blur.
You think too much what is, not what could be.

You look around and see what you deplore.
What you could do if you could see that all
your species has is just itself, no more."
"What lets a diner cook to make this call,

and why pick me to show your E.T. face?"
"Was on my way back to my native star.
I saw your orb and so I fell from space
beside this road-side diner fountain bar.

I thought I'd spend a while to get a fix
on Earthly ways. I saw the sign, Wanted -
a diner cook to work from 10 to 6.
To roam the galaxy and to imbed

is what I do, and tell my race what I
have learned. In others' lives, we don't involve
ourselves. I'm just content to be a spy.
But just for once, I need some help to solve

why your own race cannot break free of your
own pointless prisons made up for no good."
Without the third eye then I was demure
to answer him, but would have if I could.

I left the diner with a bit of blues
to think that humans cling to stupid creeds.
If only we could see like that space muse.
Imagining that third eye's what we need.






placed in the dVerse ~ Poets Pub: Poetics – Third Eye Open
and in the Poets United Poetry Pantry #64
(photo is of actor Barney Phillips in The Twilight Zone episode
 "Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?")