Breakdown on the Galactic Highway

The man on the bar TV
Says “Wheatballs!”
I look at the alien beside me
It looks back at me
We both know the danger of breakfast cereals
I get us another round of beers
And sip the top off mine
It slips a ‘finger’ into its glass
And chugs down half in one go
I figure, with the engine bust up the way it is
And spares not due
Until the next meteor shower
We could both do with a rest
From covert blockade running

The man on the bar TV
Says “Fruity Taste!”
The alien next to me
Looks at me with
Two eyes close – but the other three are open
‘Strawberry?’ it telepaths
I snap my fingers three times
In confirmation, of sorts
But still unsure – last time
It experimented with fruit it was hallucinating for days
The visions became so weird and wild
That even I had to
Disconnect my receiver
To get a good night’s sleep

The man on the bar TV
Says “Vitamin Packed!”
The alien looks across
At the entertainment module
It starts playing of its own accord and then it’s 2055 again
Jean and the kids, laughing
And smiling, alive once more
Even though, by 2183
They were all dust
You ride the crest of the light wave and Time
Unravels like threads
From the fabric of Reality
And there’s no way in Hell
You’ll knit your life back together again

The man on the bar TV
Says “Sunshine Goodness!”
I look at the alien
Remembering the Solar wind burns
It took as it repaired our craft from the outside
How it had sloughed
Two thirds of its mass
Until it had stabilised itself
Finally letting me
Come off the Love-Hate rollercoaster of emotions
I never knew I felt
Or would ever admit to
In an insane world it’s the
Sane who wear the straightjackets

The man on the bar TV
Says “Thermostatic!”
Out of boredom the nanotechbots
Have built themselves an
A.I. module that now wants to teach them all about morality
My wrist implants tap-tap-tap
Impatiently on the bar top
Wondering how long
It will be before the little
Micro-mechanisms sacrifice the module on the alter of Science
But only after
They have repaired our craft
Rebuilding their own Universe
They are their own Gods

The man on the bar TV
Says “Crispy Texture!”
Data assimilation complete
The alien beside me
Telepaths “Let us Rock En Roll, Kimo-sah-bay-bee”
I smile, feeling its
Feathery touch on my face
As I sym-link us
Back together again
We are once more in control of our destiny
Or so we like to think
As we start to surf the next event horizon
Heading off to our next port of call.