Seeing a UFO and Singing Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon” into the Night at the Top of My Lungs
How many poems does a guy have to write
to get abducted by aliens? I know you
see me, same as the fat moon peeping
through the trees like a pervert. I just
want to talk. My arms are sore from waving.
My dad used to wonder why I was always
so fascinated with space, then learned
I share a birthday with Yuri Gagarin
and that explained everything. I would
watch that shit show Ancient Aliens
with my mom and she would say,
you know in Guate we remember
where the Mayas came from, raising
her eyebrows into orbit.
How could I not grow up to search
the skies for meaning? Ancient peoples
thought objects soaring through the atmosphere
were celestial serpents, their glowing tails
slithering through space, and I buy it.
Oh, Quetzalcoatl, is that you? I feel
like the last kid sitting in front of the school
waiting to be picked up. Don’t say
you’ve forgotten me.
