Missing the Blue
Light Special, insulted
by the not so youthful
young cashier, and fed
up having to return
a brand-new orange
plastic colander with
few unplugged holes,
we finally stormed out,
shortly before K-Mart
closed, to locate our car
in the lot. The night was brutal, too warm
even for august.
Mosquitoes ravished us
At the door.
“Forget going anywhere
Else,” I said. “It’s enough
if nothing worse happens!”
That’s when
The lights went out.
Overloaded city-wide,
the power failed. Dozens
Of consumers were
suddenly in the dark
reader feel a little disoriented, too. – Patricia Schlutt, age 16
And disoriented.
Then the sky
closed down on us
like a bank’s computer,
and as never before
stars could be seen
by starless city dwellers.
“Wow!” came a child’s
voice, which pretty
much summed it up
even for those who
couldn’t speak. More opinion followed:
“I know nothing about
stars—nothing at all—
But they seem so small!”
“Florida stars,”
someone heckled.
“They come here
for the summer.”
Every so often this happens, by chance,
or by circumstance
beyond our control:
We are astonished
by the obvious,
something astronomers
couldn’t teach us
at school. “My daughter
once made a model
of the galaxy,” said
a stranger, just before
our observatory closed.
“But it was really
nothing like this,”