Out Like a Lamb

The Third Relief

Campsite, summer. 10pm.

"Do you see what I see?"

An evenly spaced and lengthy string of lights
pulled slowly across an open Adirondack sky

He says he sees it too, and so

the first relief is knowing it's at least
a dual hallucination, not mine alone.

We watch what cannot be a comet or
a shooting star, nor nebulae, nor plane.

I'm freaking out, he's calm. He says
it must be just a military test, but
I say clearly aliens are singing as they
decorate a festive flaring skytree.

(There is no one to ask, for now,
unplugged from Internet and cell).

The second relief is having a witness
to back up this fantastic future tale
to everyone who won't believe me.

My heart, alarmed, says wow and wow
and holy shit and this is huge

and in my mind the rolodex of answers
is flipping blank, comes up with nil,
scrolls toward a vast impossibility.

We watch until it stops, perhaps ten minutes
worth of stars aligned in slow commute
to who-knows-where before the show is over.

The third relief (this time a disappointment)
comes once home, where Google says
Musk's Space X station was a-passing by.

My awe turned into awwww; it's just another
billionaire, stealing all the wonders of the night.



note ▼

April 3—Look at the sky!