Because Ken could not stop for Death,
Death kindly stopped for Ken;
The carriage held but just ourselves
and Mollies big red pen.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My mining moons and all my dreads,
For firesales that day.

We passed the gates, where bubbles shone
And stations graped secure;
We passed the the belts of bistot,
and fields of arkonor.

Or rather, he passed us;
The warps grew lonely and cold,
For only newbie ship my gown,
Pod jumping growing old.

We hid inside a pos that seemed
A fortress unassailable;
The mods were sound and all online,
But gunners unavailable.

Since then 'tis weeks, and yet each
seems brighter than ten moons
I first surmised that anime
Is nothing but cartoons.

--Brobuck