Outer Space

And it is difficult
to get abducted
even in a cornfield.

You remind yourself again
how it took every ounce
of luck just to be born.

We have been
expecting you

they always say.

You are like them,
obsessed with secrecy
and perfect circles.

They are interested.
Go on,  they say,  nodding
in unison like sunflowers.

It is the inner space
that hurts most,  you say,
the not knowing.

But by now the translator
is preoccupied,
fiddling at the controls.

Copyright 2009,  Mike White

Mike White lives in Salt Lake City and teaches at the University of Utah.   His poems have appeared in Switched-on Gutenberg and in other journals,  including PoetryThe New RepublicThe Threepenny ReviewWitness, and Field.   "Outer Space" appeared in Mid-American Review, Vol. XXIX, No. 2.

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