Secretum secretorum

It is satisfying for me to thumb through poets,
scoffing at their self-indulgent published works,
their non-cliché way of making special how they feel.
 
I threw the book aside and click Wikipedia, where
the "The Grinning Man" article pops up. I scanned
down the page, stopping at witness accounts:
 
The "thing" blocked the road, and a door slid open
on the side of the it. Then a man stepped out,
the man was around six feet tall, with long dark hair
 
combed straight back. His skin was heavily tanned.
He wore an outfit that was made out of some sort
of "glistening green material"... He was grinning broadly.
 
Most will say these people are lying, but if
a man with no ears or nose never showed
up in your backyard, why would you say so?
 
Why do they visit six-year-old girls and leave the adults
to record the growling they couldn't hear that night?
Wide-set beady eyes? Why do they live under highways,
 
stalking only those in New Jersey? Why not show up
at my wedding, or at Applebee’s on a Friday night?
Why appear to humans at all? If they're so meta-physical,
 
why not sleep on waterfalls or dance in traffic lights?
Why do you care, you who left your ears
in some other dark-sky universe?
 
I'm a little jealous of the terrified girls
in pink pajamas. All I heard were whispers
when I was young and all alone. I wanted to hear
 
your name. I wanted red eyes in my
closet, watching me, assuring me whatever is out there
is out there and has concern for humans
 
outside of humans.