Size / / /
When the whirring saucers came,
back in the 1950s, they came
for our women,
their breasts bound
in bronze assault bras.
The aliens liked them
well enough, but found them
passive and cool to tenticular touch.
When the slicing saucers come
back in the 21st, they come
for our women,
specific women:
strong postfeminist icons
who sharply rap their knuckloids,
make them say please,
strap on strap-ons,
then ride the aliens into mutually
orgiastic postapocalyptic
frenzies. Bronze bra'd grandmas
watch. First they disapprove.
Then they long. Then they hip
check granddaughters aside,
taking aliens for return engagements,
and really, everyone is happy.