My Alien Brother

author’s note:

In memory of Gary Booker, Keith Reid, and B.J. Wilson of Procol Harum.

Blokes, I hope you’re enjoying your new tank.  Send a sign if you feel inclined.


MY ALIEN BROTHER

One day at a cathedral-like aquarium
I watched an octopus in a tank
pulse its body up through the dark water
by throwing its tenacles out
then pulling some unseen string
and bringing them back together again.

I saw the force of life in those propulsions.

Where does such energy come from?—
how can a dinner of little fish
possibly be enough to keep that engine going?

As I pondered that question
I again began to feel
the energy that pulsates
through my own physical frame.

Like the octopus
I seem to be plugged in.

But plugged into what?

Can we ever see
behind the curtain of this mystery?
I asked the octopus.

But all the creature wanted was to enjoy
its rhythmic jaunt through the murky water.

Sometimes in an odd hour
I’ll turn my thoughts to that alien brother
and again feel the quiet thrill
of expanding my small mind
by trying to imagine
what secrets might be revealed
if I could ever
pierce through the veil.

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