YOU drove 900 miles in a diaper
to fight for the man you love.
What woman would not admire
such fierceness, such ardor?
The pepper spray was a nice touch.

You fell perhaps so far in our eyes
because you were meant for the stars.
You gave the penny-wise white coats at NASA
a reason to fear--

a tension-filled spaceship
redolent of pheromones, blood,
and sweat from a zero G catfight
over your delicious ensign.
In space no one can hear you hiss.

a ruined first contact
as you misread a tentacled gesture
of pangalactic peace
as a move
on your rock-hard pilot.
Oh that bitch from Betelguese.