Sizing Up the Situatioin
She was magnificent. All 3 inches of her.
A Martian? I didn’t care.
She’d arrived when I was suicidal. Saved my life.
Daytimes, she sat on my shoulder, purring. Nights, she slept on my pillow, sighing.
Inseparable, love blossomed.
If only my appendage were miniscule.
Surgeons thought me weird. “Downsize? Impossible!”
Though celibate, our love grew.
A priest wouldn’t marry us. “Your dimensions prove this love illicit!”
Then she disappeared. Grieved, I found a note: “I’ve gone to Mars.
There’s a new hormonal treatment.”
Three months passed.
“It worked,” she said, trying to snuggle her twenty-foot body next to mine.