by Nick Gisburne
We tweak the tinsel engines, heaving home
But see a sticky, marmalading moon
Asleep, the crumpled captain and his gnome
Began their oven-ready nap at noon
A crunch of crew-birds tussle as we land
Demanding extra kippers with their seed
But on a cheesy runway, smeared with sand
They fire the cactus, shrivelling our speed
We guzzle on a supper from the stars
Saluting as the ship inflates its face
The eye lights, beady baubles, blink to Mars
And flailing flippers fling us into space
At twice the speed of geometric toast
Towards the rainbow rendezvous we coast
