The Photons of Our Being

"These lights flashed in the sky and I swear it was a U.F.O."

"A U.F.O.? How do you know?"

"They were big lights. Trust me. I know it sounds crazy but they zig-zagged and changed colors and then they disappeared."

"Look, Mr. Sellick, it seems like you're describing a fighter jet, or perhaps a weather balloon."

"A ha! A weather balloon. That's how you government men describe it on T.V."

The shrooms were kicking in and watched the lights on the RFK twinkle. A few weeks ago I started a clerical job with the United States Postal Police and now I'm being labeled a government man like I actually give a shit about lights.

"They talked to me, man."

"What do you mean?"

"They spoke to me, telepathically or telekinetically or what ever the hell it is. And even though I didn't want to respond they forced me to."

"Did they waterboard your sense of integrity?"

"It was like deep down, I formulated a response, but I didn't want them to hear it but they heard it anyway."

"How did the conversation go?"

"They said, 'We have come from Uranus'," he said laughing uncontrollably.

"You son of a bitch."

We laughed some more and the occasional person would walk by and see us sitting on the roof of this black car and they would hear us laughing and talking and they would stare at us but we didn't care.

The lights on the RFK began to sway and they lifted themselves, changing shapes.

"Holy shit..." I said.