Everyone gathers on
Small wooden planks
As the eldest son
Pulls up a report,
But nothing official,
And begins to recite
The words therein.
The sister carries
Pots and pans
Back to their rightful
Spots in ascending
Towers on top of
The cabinets that
Are missing windows.
The brother stares down
At the floor and
Waggles his shoes,
Basketball in hand,
Shirt removed,
Still hot even though
It was raining.
The mother inhales
And breathes out,
The dragon of the clan,
Eyes narrowed intently,
Grasping at the words
With butterfly nets.
Something is said
That startles the sister;
She cannot believe
What her brother says,
But he goes on,
Not losing his cadence,
Steady and forceful.
Mother speaks in
Quiet tones words
Of accusatory nature,
Causing the son
To sharpen his words,
Honing to a fine point
And rapidly firing,
Barrel overheated.
He speaks in words
That sound like those
Of the ones he
Desperately seeks
To know of,
Steady streams from
Runic stock ticker.
Talks of other worlds,
Other lands with
Distant technology
That perform magic
With blinking lights
Like the one flickering
Street lamp
Just down the street.
Anywhere must be
Better than here
With its mud puddles
That catch tires
Like snares,
Its broken roads
And swaying
Electricity that bats
Its eyes at whim.
Somewhere that
Has excitement
With exciting creatures
Who defy the mind
Unlike mangy dogs
And mindless cattle
With fly-bitten eyes
Chewing cud.
Stories are woven
With evidence piling,
Adding the excitement
In the cooking room.
The rain drawls on,
In Southern gait,
Yawning as it moves
Onward,
Unmoved by
The brother’s tale.
Composed 07/15/2012
Author’s Note: My host brother, who studies at a technology university, has his laptop filled with evidence of UFOs, alien encounters, and creatures from cryptozoology. It was not the sort of afternoon activity I was expecting when I was called into the kitchen that day.
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