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      June 11, 2013How We Knew ThemChris Bullard

      It was so familiar. The spaceship,
      saucer-shaped and brilliantly lit,
      conformed to every expectation
      we had concerning spaceships,
      though this particular one hadn’t
      touched earth before. The crew,
      grey, oval-headed and humanoid,
      were immediately identifiable
      as extraterrestrials, as they met
      our stereotypes of space aliens
      from innumerable lousy movies.
      If their nonchalance registered
      as the same nonchalance frat boys
      show as they shrug away the wreck
      of a father’s expensive sports car,
      we could still empathize. Weren’t
      they checking us out like a girl
      at her debutante ball looking for
      the right one among the bachelors.
      Hadn’t they come looking for us?
      But it seemed they didn’t want
      our natural resources. They didn’t
      want to mate with our daughters.
      When we tried to communicate
      by symbols, by music, by neon
      digital billboards, they wrinkled
      their lipless mouths and laughed.
      We knew, of course, it was laughter.

      from #38 - Winter 2012

      Chris Bullard

      “I wrote this poem in response to Lawrence Raab’s marvelous ‘Another Argument about the Impossible.’ I was attending a writing seminar with Stephen Dunn and I had heard that Raab’s poem recounted a conversation between the two poets about worthwhile poetic subjects. My poem was an attempt to muscle in on their dialogue. I read an early version of my poem to Dunn and he laughed. I am relatively sure that this wasn’t the laugh of estrangement we receive from my aliens.”