ryan quinn flanagan | a dark matter

A Dark Matter

Out under the desert night
with the dogs
lonely coyotes in the distance
one road in
and I’m bathing suited
by the pool
listening to UFO radio
tonight’s discussion:
Roswell and Beyond;
little green men between the couch cushions, all that,
and there’s the plausibility of wormholes
arguments for and against,
plenty of crackpots on guerrilla radio
after midnight,
and the ice cubes in my drink
left long ago
makes me think of all that dark matter
the radio says is out there,
Russian cosmonauts passing bootleg vodka
in orbit,
doing circles around my head
these stars
this pool I would be swimming in
if it weren’t for what people
do in public

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