A Martian Sends an E-mail Home

Many ghosts play a game with
Many rectangles.

Some rectangles are scary.
Some are peaceful.

They do stuff with paper
With markings on it.
Hit each other with it,
Tape to their body.

Sometimes lights go off early.
Sometimes lights go off late.

They get on a raised piece of wood,
Do stuff as a group.

They start to glow and stand
Up on their feet.

Sometimes they stay rooted
With nothing to say.

They like to make each other gleam,
That make them go short-wired robotic.

Knock Knock
Who’s There?
Pika
Pika Who?

Knock Knock
Who’s There?
I Choose
I Choose Who?
I Choose You

They seem to fall to the ground
Quite often as if they been turned off

The mush that they digest is light,
But can often be dark.

There are many of them.
They stay locked up most the day.

Sometimes they’re let out,
Into the open.
Where there is light,
And things that are not man-made
And that are.