ELECTRIC NIGHT INCIDENT

The night sky
is a purple-black skin
stretched tight across the universe.

Grab a fistful and pull hard:
It unadheres with a soul-shattering, spine-tingling
THWOP.

There is a smell
like electric dinosaurs
in lemonade.

Now you've got the night sky
in your grasp. It is cold
and it stains your hands a bit.

Suddenly
the kitchen window slaps up;
Your mother's voice cuts to you:

“Put. That. BACK!”

Your mother has never
taken no for an answer.

So you hold onto the night sky
for a moment (o what is this taste o what is this smell?)

And then you throw it,
pizza-style,
overhead.

It adheres to the atmosphere
with a hiss.

You just stand
and suck night sky juice
off your freezing fingers.

1986