And All the While There Was an Invisible Spaceship Passing Right Over Our Heads
By Hunter Grey
I was talking to somebody. Maybe Gus. About
how one can feel at peace in the 21st century. And Gus that
isn’t really his name but it makes no difference said
that that was impossible. He’s very wise. What he said was possible was
having a girl you have no idea what to do with. And getting enough
of the good kinds of fat. Was eating bread slowly to avoid catching hic-ups.
It was baseball season. And through the woods came sounds of little league.
Some kid must’ve hit a hum-dinger because there was a metal PINK!
And a big HEY! And the clapping of hands. “Sounds like he really got ahold of
one.”
Gus said. Still dreaming. You could just see
the first of the stars coming out. The deck was cool. “Yep.”
He said. “You and me are going to get old and go crazy. And curse
our cocks for giving up on us before we ever really learned how to use them.”
As I said
he’s very wise. “Gee.” I said. “Surely that’s not all.” “No.” He said.
“There’s always kids. And baseball. And learning how to drive and to dance
right.
And songs. The singing of songs.” We went on talking about songs and about
dancing. And about how two people really can sometimes solve the puzzles
of each other’s yearns and yens for a while. We were optimistic too.
“You know?” I said. “I was in love with your sister when we were growing up.”
“I know.” He said. “And that didn’t bother you?” I said. “A little.
But only because I think I was in love with her too.” There was another hit.
And the stars were really coming on now. We sank back
in our chairs. We didn’t know where to go from there.
About the Author
Hunter Grey received his MFA at the University of North Carolina Wilmington, where he also served as poetry editor for Ecotone magazine. His work has previously appeared in Pigeon Pages and The Heart's Many Doors: American Poets Respond to Metka Krašovec. His first chapbook is forthcoming in 2025 with Finishing Line Press.
