To Be a Martian

Let me tell you a little of what it feels like
To be a Martian,
One of the millions exiled to Earth and passing as human,
All shapes, all sizes, all colors.
I cannot tell you the reason we were sent here
Except that we mean no harm
And that nothing could be further from the truth
Than the endlessly repeated tales of
Horrors from the Red Planet.

Although that's an annoyance,
What really hurts is having to hold my tongue
When someone I consider a friend
Starts bad-mouthing Martians
And telling how he would prove his loyalty to Earth
By tearing tentacle from slimy tentacle
Anything he meets
That looks like his idea of a Martian. 

Even that would be bearable
Except that most Martians,
All but a few who venture
To congregate in desolate places,
Are disguised so well
That they are seldom known even to one another.
And there is a tradition,
As old as the Martian race
And established with good reason,
That a Martian may love
Only another Martian.  


                                        Thomas G. Digby
                                        written 0220 hr  1/20/70
                                        typed   0355 hr  5/07/77
                                        entered 2205 hr  4/12/92