It arrived just in time for lunch —
sliced cold turkey on whole wheat
with Dijon mustard, cheddar cheese,
olives, pickled pearl onions, capers
and tea — an immense white vehicle
that descended sillently from the blue sky.
I would have asked them in, but they
did not seem interested in food; rather
they spent most of the lunch period
setting up some device in my front yard.
It turned out to be a universal translator
they poked it through the window and
asked me thousands of questionsthat
I refused to answer, as they were
very personal, and I have a right to some
privacy — what they were I won’t say.
They left just before supper which I prepared
during the most intense period of questioning,
when they were asking about disease and war
and many unpleasant things I refuse to consider.
I was quite pleased when they got into their ship
and silently returned straight up. Supper was
a fried pork chop with apple sauce, candied baby
carrots, poached beets, baked potato with sour cream,
and a sweet tart for dessert.
O yes: a demi-tasse of black coffee.
