All we have to fight the beetle horde
is our bare hands.
Fortunately, they are not good boxers in the cold
and we are dressed warmly.
At least the men are
with our thick suits and rubber shoes.
Women walk about in furry hip-length one-pieces,
showing the legs and bare feet
we men find so attractive
when not fist-fighting the beetles.
Ah, the beetles,
this planet's dominant species,
six feet in height when standing upright.
How they loathe us and the junk
we've left everywhere.
Some say their glass eyes are our sins
staring back at us.
Others say we're not from this planet,
and we came within the shiny metal junk,
which is why we wear alien clothing.
Some say we should return to where we came from,
or at least clean up after ourselves,
but others, like me, say this is our home,
and we should be content
for the cave at night is warm, the women willing,
and the beetle-food plentiful.