First Contact Poem by Clive Culverhouse

so after it landed
something grey walked out of it
down a ramp that looked like
it couldn't have been
part of the ship moments ago
they appeared familiar
with where they stood
blue bottle eyes scanning
old friends from millennia ago
I think he was trying to put
one of his three fingers
on what had changed,
passing clouds smirking
as they drifted by,
anyway, to cut a long story short,
they seemed a bit put out
and it was all a little awkward