How Did I Ever Get Stuck with This Job

I wish I could avoid them altogether
but my job description
is "Alien liaison."
When trapped in conversation,
I treat them like spies,
tell them nothing.
They like to be shown around
so I take them to trash dumps
and polluted rivers.
I don't allow them to go
anywhere unescorted.

"Entertain them," says my boss.
So I lay out stale crackers and moldy cheese.
And hire a polka band.
The damn creatures seem to like it.
Then they get on this "Take me to your leader" kick.
I pretend that I'm a leader.
They produce a treaty that they want me to sign.
I scribble "Donald Duck" on the dotted line.

To think, that all these years
we earthlings have wondered
about what creatures from other planets
would be like.
These ones are an ugly green color,
they smell bad
and their language
is a series of grunts and wheezes.

They gravitate toward
the polka band's accordion player.
The aliens and his instrument
talk up a storm.