One of the Last Mating Pairs
By: John Grey

Beyond the laser fence,
the hologram moat,
amid fake yellow trees
and purple boulders,
two Voluvians pace listlessly.
Hard to believe that they're
more precious to their race than gold.

He's as slow as his ponderous weight.
Her hands swat at flies,
fail in the attempt.
Occasionally, they look in my direction.
But the stare is blank, incurious.

They show no interest in each other.
Survival of the species
can't get beyond each other's boredom.

Another day ending in waning light,
encroaching shadows,
and they're no nearer to procreation
than when first brought together.

I can't imagine a universe
where there are no longer
any Voluvians.
They've merely ceased to imagine.


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