Using a Hula Hoop Can Get You Abducted by Aliens

On a lazy Saturday morning when you're lying in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, there is a space where fantasy and reality become one. Are you awake, or are you dreaming? You see people and things; some are familiar; some are strange. You talk, you feel, but you move without walking; you fly without wings. Your mind and your body exist, but on separate planes. Time stands still. For me, this is the feeling I have when ideas come.

~ Lynn Johnston

Kitchen Remodels
by Kristin Berkey-Abbott      

In a culture that doesn't cook,
homeowners remodel their kitchens.

Their budget for appliances
would feed a third world country for at least
a week. They need restaurant capacity
refrigerators, freezers, and stoves,
even though they won't stock
any food. They will pay for a forest's
worth of cabinets. Granite countertops gleam,
then gather dust.

They'll store designer
china, along with stoneware for every day,
while every day they eat off of paper
plates, or out of wrappers, greasy
papers cluttering the car.

They'll gather in the blue gloom
of their individual televisions to eat fast food
while watching celebrity chefs
on distant food networks.


Living Parallel... mynameistran





Using a Hula Hoop Can Get You Abducted by Aliens
by Matthea Harvey       

We've never taken anyone
buttoned up and trotting from point A
to point B—subway to office, office to
lunch, fretting over the credit crunch.
Not the ones carefully maneuvering their
watchamacalits alongside broken white lines,
not the Leash-holders who take their Furries
to the park three point five times per day.
If you're an integer in that kind of
equation, you belong with your Far-bits
on the ground. We're seven Staryears
past calculus, so it's the dreamy ones
who want to go somewhere they don't know
how to get to that interest us, the ones
who will stare all day at a blank piece of paper
or square of canvas, then peer searchingly into
their herbal tea. It's true that hula hoops
resemble the rings around Firsthome, and that
when you spin, we chime softly, remembering
Oursummer, Ourspring and our twelve Otherseasons.
but that's not the only reason (Do we like rhyme?
Yes we do. Also your snow, your moss your tofu—
our sticky hands make it hard for us to put
things down). Don't fret, dreamy spinning ones
with water falling from your faces.
It's us you're waiting for and we're coming.

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The Geometric Star  MarianaPalova