ELECTRIC NIGHT INCIDENT
The night sky is a purple-black skin stretched tight across the universe.
Grab a fistful and pull hard: It unadheres with a soul-shattering, spine-tingling THWOP.
There is a smell like electric dinosaurs in lemonade.
Now you've got the night sky in your grasp. It is cold and it stains your hands a bit.
Suddenly the kitchen window slaps up; Your mother's voice cuts to you:
“Put. That. BACK!”
Your mother has never taken no for an answer.
So you hold onto the night sky for a moment (o what is this taste o what is this smell?)
And then you throw it, pizza-style, overhead.
It adheres to the atmosphere with a hiss.
You just stand and suck night sky juice off your freezing fingers.
1986