Blue Aliens, Vampires and Viking Crafts to Venus.

I think what I miss the most is being 
a blue alien.
My uncle never questioned me
when I confessed to him I was a blue alien--
he knew that four-year-olds
aren't old enough to lie.
Or maybe I just miss how I used to eat 
honey mustard sauce on chicken fingers 
and how my uncle recited my order-- knew 
I needed exactly 8 ketchup packets
when we came around to a window
that was also a portal to a space station
somewhere outside Venus.  
--Kethchup packets are like pocket watches
or pillows. We took
vacations to Burger King 
and to the diner that no longer
has an airport.
Today it has the scarce rib cage of a hanger 
and a runway to the edge of nothing--
fall off and find the star where I was from.
I told you we would take
an airplane one day. Those Bi-planes 
used to congregate like honey bees 
out the diner windows.
I told you it would write
my name in smoke like you see in cartoons.
My technology was advanced
(even for a blue alien)-- I was a 
creature of tin foil time machines and coat
hangers that steered Viking ships
at carnivals. Oh! And how could
I forget that you were a vampire?
And even though I was an alien
I drank blood sometimes
from bar counters that
were also intergalactic confessionals.
I would not call us an unlikely
pair. No one really 
believed that we were a vampire
and a blue alien but you
understood enough for the both
of us and everyone else
who ordered club sandwiches 
from swivel chairs at the diner
that is still somewhat
of a space ship.
And yesterday a girl with
a pink romper told me
in the honestly only four-year-olds
have that I look like an alien--
Which makes sense.
Because I am. I guess
that makes you a vampire.