I set the parameters three planetary diameters,

then stopped on the proverbial dime.

Programming the course off toward the Dark Horse,

I warped out to escape my crime.

I really hadn’t meant to make such a dent

in the head of that museum guard,

but with my eye on the prize, a Tulamite of great size,

I hit him way, way too hard.

A jewel thief of space, a disgrace to my race,

I am usually reknown as a pro.

But not in this case, I fled into space,

just ahead of the security fed

who wanted me on death row.

The nebula neared and just as I’d feared,

a federal cruiser was in hot pursuit.

I slingshot a moon, but did it too soon,

so all my maneuvers were moot.

The plasma gun blast caught me in the ass

and my gryos destabilized bad.

I dropped into pulse drive, shaken but alive

but knowing time was going

my wasted life seemed suddenly sad.

Nowhere to turn, I decided to burn

my boosters for one final burst.

I aimed for the sun, knowing I was done,

not willing my own killing

but fatalistically accepting the worst.

The smell of hot, groaning metal

told me I’d just have to settle

for cooking the feds off my tail.

But the price was quite high,

you know, having to die?

Still, it’s better than Arcturian jail.