"We sent a Bedouin to colonize Mars,"
said Boynton, picking apples in the sun.
"Jordan sent camels. It was well begun—
until the Martian camels freed their kin to stars."
"To Venus went an Englishman with coats,
Alligator raincoats, stacked in crates.
But rain mists up on Venus, not down—fate's
cruel joke on our half-baked colonial notes."
"We built a platform on the Jovian Spot,
taught pidgin to the planets, made a hash
of languages and cultures, spent our cash,
and called it 'Point Four point four.' (We forgot
to check the moons.)" He paused. "Then they arrived—
the 'Medeans came, saw everything we'd done,
and colonized us back. They simply won.
They were better at it. Earth barely survived."
A tentacled overseer climbed the hill:
"Kigh-kigh pinis! Chat-chat too-much, you two!
B'long orchard, pick-im apple! Work to do!"
The men walked down. Boynton felt the chill.
"Why must they speak that pidgin?" asked the boy.
"They rub it in, you see—
we tried to master them. Now we're their toy."