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When the beam travels down my torso,
I undulate sequin-stringed hips.
This floodlight flashes me back to the Enterprise
where James sat erect, stiff under his clothes.
I dragged my breasts heavily over his medals.
A slap on my ass transports me back,
insertion of paper money scratches skin.
Captain, I feel like transmitting loudly,
you've dropped me on the wrong planet.
This mission has all the connotations of suicide.
Surgical enlargement was my mistake.
I pleaded female after being tried for the two
battle scars around my nipples. Still he let me go.
This distraction is highly undesirable, he accused.
You regress men back to whimpering for milk.
Since then every night is a voyage
further away from Starfleet.
I clutch my earnings and calculate chances
at survival. There is always enough to bribe
another into deluding me with false ships.
Perhaps there is something
at the end of this throbbing cosmos,
bogus phaser fire, starlets in feathers,
serpent and ping-pong ball shows, cigar smokescreen,
this quest for day jobs. Somehow I doubt it.
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