The Martians have landed
They are right here, you know
They’ve laid their tracks on 9H
And painted signs with Day-Glo
You must have kerchunked
Over the iron tracks they’ve made
There are at least two sets of them
Like a rough and ready parade
I can’t read their language
But it must be them
That are painting blue and green signals
Decorating streets with this trim
Where are they now?
Where have they got to?
Like human visitors- they’re gone
Leaving behind? Residue.