Pouring out of my bootleg Cure hoodie on the most magical night, oblivious to the symphony of wonder being unleashed out across the yard/ out across the church parking lot. Her right there, my sanctuary, in dreams.Īnd look at me beside her. Laying there beside her body/ her lovely mind all wrapped up in her milky skin, her red hair slashing down off her scalp like the fountains of Rioja where I rest along my weary road. I’m asleep in my bed a couple hundred yards away. What is that? A portal? A gateway? Is there a difference? I don’t know. Like they’ve practiced this or this ain’t their first rodeo or whatever.Īnd then. Either way/ this guy/ this intergalactic breath-taker who could quite possibly change our world forever just by appearing on the Today Show for a three minute segment around 7:22am on a Wednesday morning, he holds his palm out and slides it, sharply, right to left.ĪSHAH!!! they all say at once, as one. That one raises his palm out in front of him facing the little hill where I sometimes think I can hear the wild turkeys in the morning when I’m letting the dogs out, but I don’t know. He nods his head at the one to his right. We’re fine, one of them says, matter-of-factly, with the mindfulness. They look around, fix their beautiful bug eyes on each other. They push through the current/ bumble across the slick mountain stream stones on the bottom/ emerge on the far side/ one-two-four-nine/ maybe a dozen in all/ shadows in the night over by the Smith’s house but the Smiths are asleep. Never again! I’m never traveling with you again! You did this!, the alien in the lead hisses at the guy behind him. Little wild brown trout dart away from their space feet.ĭeer drinking on the far side stare before they bolt. They cross the cold stream under a starry sky. You didn’t have her serviced before we left? God, you’re a fucking twat, you know that? Now what? NOW WHAT?!?! I picture them moving/gliding quietly across our property some 3am. They must have ventured off into the woods out across the creek long ago. She looks banged-up/ a flying saucer that came all this way from some other galaxy just to pop a gasket out back of our place. Patches of yellow dog piss here and there, like melted corn/ like pineapple water ice. Right now he’s out there in the yard all by himself and I’m watching him and he has no idea about that. No school today again on account of the weather. Henry, my middle kid, is in the final week of his 9th year. I’m staring out the window above the kitchen sink.
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