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home :: abductees speak! :: tourist trap

Middle-class wives
can't get enough of these infants.
So adoptable, adaptable,
so contractually obligated
to fit neatly in a grateful paradigm.
After their husbands hand over the check
that greases the palms of the minister of interior,
who dropkicks the orphans over the border,
these sunburnt women catch them in their gardening
hats
and shine them on their aprons,
like so many apples in a bowl.