The sun was setting as – You gazed toward the west, you and all of those who believed only the impossible, only what your mind told you to believe.
You said, “It was a large round disc, or it may have been oval, but surrounded with color – lights continued to flash, different colors: no one spoke.”
The impossible hung in the air – you believed it nearly touched the birch trees along Route 146 – near the Knolls – The Atomic Power Lab. . .
It never made the papers, or television; no one interviewed those who stared: lines of cars pulled of to the side of the road. You – talked once – even our girls never mentioned it, but once: perhaps you were allowed to speak; once?
One night you noticed the impossible, again – dashed up the stairway – to show me exactly what – impossible, was.