[“The aliens see something they like. Fine, they say, this will do for my property. No sooner said than done, the object is their property.” – Henri Michaux]
Aliens come to earth from outer space and buy all the real estate, all of it. Graciously, they let us inhabit these plots of land as squatters. We wait, counting the gold and gems they gave us, wondering what they are really up to. But all they do, at first, is place ‘THIS IS ALIEN PROPERTY’ signs on everything.
For a long time, nothing important really changes. The ‘property’ signs become warped, dingy. Some collapse. We don’t think so much, then, about the aliens. Perhaps there never were aliens. We join therapy groups where we chant “no aliens … no aliens” until we believe there are no aliens, or that we ourselves are the aliens and that is all right.
But then, … but then those plots of earth, their property, disappear, one lot at a time. What’s left are property-shaped holes of diminishing circumference, holes lot-sized on the surface but receding to a point at Earth’s core.
We hurriedly leave each alien property as it shakes gently, then becomes faint, then transparent, then is gone. We run to properties still firm in the ground. Occasionally, possibly not intended by the aliens, some of the holes release lava that pours up and spreads over the ground, gradually cooling and eventually allowing us to rebuild.
But on the cold lava soon appear the signs: ‘THIS IS ALIEN PROPERTY, TOO.’
And the signs within each of us. Those signs that had been there from the beginning, that we had tried to ignore…
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