Our Lady of the Alien Invasion
Nights she sits in her pale blue
room, reading star charts, divining
astrological signs, making notations
of all abrupt changes in the weather,
fluctuations in the tides, wearing white
robes with gold brocade just in case
the time is now, these garments leftover
from dress rehearsal costume dramas,
comic operas, teleplays none of the characters
arrived for, all their lines left behind on
sheets
she used as curtains to block out all of
natural
light, music scored into window glass,
a Symphonie Fantastique in prime numbers
that would someday make sense, long after
Kool Aid Acid Tests, magic mushroom brownies
and strychnine sandwiches for the acolytes
and the newly converted, nothing left to
chance;
once the higher powers have been summoned,
there is no turning back.
Charles and Marjory Johnson
of Lancaster California,
the last stubborn defenders
of flat earth doctrine
Their file photo could easily
have been
culled from the back files of
a UFO
Space Invaders found amid the
wreckage
of an unacknowledged craft
from some-
where in a New Mexican desert
landing
site, their likenesses, part
of disinformative
data meant to discredit far
reaching thinkers
of unpopular doctrines,
programs contemplated
as part of a disruptive
interference in our
affairs from way beyond,
these anachronistic
patriots left behind to live
without modern
conveniences of running
water, electricity,
indoor plumbing, to be
perceived as exiles
in bizarre polyester,
crackpots unstuck in time.
Contacts
“There I was on line at the
paper Cutter
getting the pages for the
magazine
copy ready and this strange
guy comes up
to me and hands me his
card.
He was old, ancient in fact,
decrepit
even. The card was blue and it had
all
kinds of names on it, some
with addresses
on other planets. I wondered
who took
the order for that one and
where.
He indicated that he was on
some kind
of mission that was of vital
importance
and top secret to
boot.
‘Take Sara, for instance.
We’ve been
in contact for years. Her
home base is still
Saturn but that could change
on a moment’s
notice. What are you having
run off?’
‘Runes. I’m head of a secret
society
that specializes in the
significance of signs:
have you ever heard of
Semiologists?’
I thought I had a storing
shot at becoming
statistic judging from the
look in his eyes.
It was only later that I
realized he hadn’t
gotten the joke and he had
perceived me as
a threat from a rival
power.”
