Author’s Note
Sometimes a poem arrives dressed like science fiction and refuses to stay in its genre.
Poet & Little Dude began with the kind of ridiculous premise that feels perfectly reasonable at the time: an alien lands in an ordinary American city, everyone panics, and the poet is mostly annoyed by how long the spaceship ramp takes to come down. From there, Little Dude wandered into the story with jokes, questions, a questionable understanding of human customs, and absolutely no respect for the study guide.
But beneath the absurdity, something quieter started taking shape.
This is a story about being seen by someone who doesn’t need the entire explanation first. About two homes, two dusks, two dawns—and the strange ache of knowing that the place you’re standing in isn’t necessarily the place that feels like home.
So yes, there are aliens, government agents, hotdogs, Admiral Ackbar, an extended-warranty joke, and a very important distinction between a rabbit hole and a bunny void.
But somewhere underneath all that nonsense is Little Dude asking the poet the question that matters:
Do you want to go home?
— Rowan Evans
Poet & Little Dude
Poetry by Rowan Evans
A silent hum in the sky above,
a non-descript American city.
The kind of hum
that settles in your bones
before your mind catches up,
the kind that says
pay attention
without making a sound.
Everyone looked up.
I looked down at my notes.
I’d seen enough movies to know
this was either the beginning
or the end.
Probably both.
People screamed.
Cars stopped.
Someone dropped a hotdog.
And me?
I sighed, closed my notebook,
and muttered,
“Well… guess it’s my turn again.”
I stopped at the edge of the crowd
as the craft touched down.
A low buzzing cut through the air,
and a ramp began to lower.
Slowly.
Excruciatingly slow.
I checked my watch.
I tapped my foot.
I wrote four stanzas,
two sonnets—
and finished season one
of Breaking Bad…
and the ramp was still lowering.
Hit the power button
on my phone and locked it.
Slipped it back in my pocket—
where my hands stayed.
A silent thud as the ramp
FINALLY—
hit the ground.
The hollow echo
of footsteps rang out.
A shadow stretched long—
cascading down the ramp
until it touched the dirt.
The crowd began to murmur
before a voice rang out—
“Take me to your leader!”
The crowd went silent.
Only the footsteps echoing
could be heard—
nobody could see a thing
at first—
“No, I’m just kidding.
I’ve always want to say that.”
The tiny grey alien
stopped at the bottom of the ramp,
slowly looking up—
Its large black eyes
landing on mine.
“Sup?” I said
with a slight nod
of my head.
Its eyes closed for a moment—
“I’ve been trying to reach you
about your cars extended warranty.”
The alien’s mouth thins to a line
as it tried to contain the giggles.
Pinching the bridge
of my nose—
I sighed.
“You didn’t follow
the study guide—”
I started,
before little dude
cut me off.
“I went down
the bunny void.”
“Rabbit hole—”
I corrected.
“What?”
they asked confused.
I slowly get down
on one knee,
just like I had before—
“It’s a rabbit hole,
when you follow
a thread through
seemingly unrelated topics.”
Little dude nodded.
“I think I got it.
But what about you,
did you study the guide
I gave too?”
I cleared my throat,
tried to hide the choke.
Should I lie—
or hide it with a joke?
Nope.
“I did not.”
I said, looking away.
Shaking their head,
little dude laughs.
“It’s okay, poet.
You should read it though,
you’ll love it, I know it.”
Stepping closer.
Hand on mine.
“You’ll learn of
green skies and purple lakes,
twin suns and sister moons—
we get six hours of light,
six hours of night. Twice.”
“Twin suns and sister moons?”
I asked. “I can relate to that.
That’s how my life has been,
living under two suns—
they’re really one.
It’s two days in different places.”
Little dude tilted their head,
then they said:
“No.”
A pause.
“Not two suns.
It’s two homes.
Two dusks, two dawns—
one feels right,
the other wrong.”
I turned my head,
eyes glassy, tears steaming,
as I opened my mouth
to speak.
But the words evaded me.
Little dude noticed quick.
“You’re leaking.”
They said with concern.
“It’s human emotion,
you’ll learn.”
I said with a quivering lip,
trying to hold it all in.
Our moment is interrupted
by a scream
from the forgotten crowd.
“Whoa,”
little dude flinches
in surprise.
“Have they been here
this whole time?”
Looking around—
I saw the faces in the crowd.
Some were scared, terrified—
others confused and paranoid.
“It’s a trap!”
a voice cut through
the thick silence.
I sighed,
not surprised—
“calm down,
Admiral Ackbar.”
The crowd lets out
a collective scream—
someone throws a shoe.
It barely misses my head.
“What the hell?!
Who threw that?”
I yell.
“Was it you—”
little dude pauses dramatically,
their eyes focusing.
“Admiral?”
Admiral Ackbar shakes his head.
“N-no.” he stammers,
as his heart hammers in his chest.
“The government…” the crowd began,
the murmurs spread quick.
“we’ve got to call the government.
They’ll handle this—
they’ll know what to do.”
Little Dude and I blink.
“Since when?”
I asked, confused.
“Okay, okay—
wait, let me introduce you.
They’re not scary.
They can show you.”
I say, addressing the crowd.
The crowd begins to quiet down,
their murmurs becoming a softer sound.
“This…”
I gesture to the little dude beside me.
“This is Little Dude.
They’re not… from around here.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
Little dude adds.
“I’m from a little place called…
another planet.”
They make a vague gesture
with their hands.
“Just another planet?”
a voice from the crowd asks,
shaking with fear.
“No… no name?”
“Name’s pending.
It’s actually been pending
for a long time…
a really long time.
But that’s the government,
right?” Little dude responds with a smile.
“They’re slow.”
“Why are you naked?”
another question from the crowd.
“Naked?”
Little dude tilts their head.
“Do you mean—
why am I
not wearing a second skin,
like you?”
The crowd recoiled
like Little Dude had just confessed
to a federal crime.
“Second skin?”
someone whispered, horrified.
Little Dude nodded earnestly.
“Yes.
The fabric layer you all wear
to hide your emotional temperature.”
I blinked.
“That’s… not why we wear clothes.”
Little Dude tilted their head,
eyes wide.
“Then why do you wear them?”
A hundred humans froze,
suddenly realizing
they did not have a unified answer.
“We just like them.” I said,
my voice lacking confidence.
Little dude shakes their head,
“not important.” they said,
“I’m not here for that,”
they gesture to the crowd.
“I’m not here for the them.”
Their big eyes, land on mine—
“I’m here for you.”
Little Dude’s words hung in the air,
heavy enough to silence a hundred humans,
light enough to lift something in my chest.
The crowd didn’t know what to do with it.
A few gasped.
Someone dropped another hotdog.
(Why were there so many hotdogs?)
A woman near the front whispered,
“Why him?”
like I was a questionable menu item.
Little Dude squeezed my hand,
their skin warm—
warmer than I expected.
“Because you listened,”
they said softly.
“You always listen.”
I opened my mouth to respond—
to say something clever,
something deflective,
something safe—
but the sky split open
with the sound of sirens.
Government vans rolled in,
black and boxy,
like someone ordered
“paranoia” on Amazon
and selected same‑day delivery.
Agents poured out,
all sunglasses and shouting,
pointing weapons that hummed
with the kind of energy
that makes your bones nervous.
Little Dude blinked at them.
“Are these your leaders?”
I snorted.
“God, no.”
The nearest agent yelled,
“Step away from the entity!”
Little Dude tilted their head.
“Entity?”
They looked at me.
“Is that a compliment?”
“Not really,” I whispered.
The agent repeated the command,
louder this time,
as if volume could fix confusion.
Little Dude stepped closer to me,
their voice steady.
“I’m not here to harm.
I’m not here to conquer.
I’m not here to be studied.”
Their eyes locked on mine.
“I’m here because you’re lonely.”
My breath caught.
The crowd fell silent again,
but this time for a different reason.
Little Dude continued,
voice soft enough
to feel like a hand on my cheek.
“You look at the sky
like it’s a door.
You write worlds
you wish you could walk into.
You build cathedrals
for people who never stayed.”
They squeezed my hand.
“I came to stay.”
The agents shouted again,
but their voices felt far away—
like background noise
in a movie I’d already seen.
Little Dude leaned in,
their forehead touching mine.
“Poet,” they whispered,
“do you want to go home?”
I swallowed hard.
“Which one?”
Little Dude smiled,
eyes glowing faintly.
“The one you haven’t found yet.”
Journey into the Hexverse
[Beings from Beyond (Remix)]
A 2026 remix of a poem first written in 2024, Beings from Beyond (Remix) returns to the mystery of unexplained lights, extraterrestrial possibilities, and humanity’s hunger for answers. The wonder remains—but the poet’s voice has become more focused on the search for truth itself.
If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]
