poem poetry alien Fermi paradox

SPHERE

Where are they?

maybe there are
none

maybe
they are here
under your skin
in the biosphere circling the planet

inside the Moon
waiting ever so
quietly just
next door

or a class and several
levels if civilization above us
not even
bothering to watch us
like we
were to them
pretty much
old silent film,
syndicate TV

whilst they hold high tea
having solved all philosophy
every
teeny-weeny social
existential political problem
consumed in the
vast production of infinite energy
their galaxy already one vast
sun-swallowing, black
hole mining
absolutely invisible

spooky paradox
Dyson-type sphere.