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