|The Science Fiction and Fantasy Workshop|
I'm on my way home from an appointment with my psychiatrist
with two different kinds of anti-psychotics in my pocket
and no burning desire to take them -
no desire to eliminate the precious barrier
between myself and reality.
I cross over a highway and enter a Chevron station,
buy a 24 oz. Pabst, sit on a picnic table out front
and watch the twilight consume the city in purple light.
A man waves to me from across the parking lot.
His clothes are filthy and his beard is Santa Claus epic.
"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret," he says.
"I'm not from your world. I'm not even from this galaxy."
His eyes are electric and his teeth are mossy.
"I envy you," I say.
Only the tip of the Air Traffic Control Tower is visible now,
glowing in the half-light like the all seeing eye of Sauron.
"Check this out," he says and removes a map from his shirt pocket
and points to a spot in a southern Idaho mountain range.
"Craters of the Moon National Monument,"
he says tapping the map with a blackened finger.
"That’s where I'm headed. From there I'll travel north and locate
the Spacecraft Re-absorption Module Site.
I'll finally be going home."
He clips his heels together and salutes.
"Farewell earth being! May we meet again among the stars!"
A car full of howling teenagers
roar past in a fluorescent green Dodge Neon
and I reflect on the incompatibility between happiness and sanity.
It's beginning to rain a little so I finish the beer,
summon my frost dragon Dennis and fly back to my dwelling
deep within the halls of Valhalla.
(comment on this poem)