Wildwood Flower

The alien found that he really enjoyed
What is called “beer”,
He would sit in the grass
When no one was looking
Drinking from the glass bottle
Feeling the cold liquid Earth
Absorb into his system,
Then he would change to his real self,
Sit in the center of the Octagon
Watching the creatures of night
Flitter about while he played
Upon what they called “banjo”,
His green skin pulsing
With the music
As he longed to go home.