I'm afraid.

Choppers whir outside my bedroom window.

The lamp's on with Mom on her knees,

looking at my UFO book.

"What's going on?" I ask her.

She frantically replies,

"Polaris—unknown lights!"

How would she know such a thing?

Toward the unlit living room, Dad passes me.

I ask, "What's going on?"

He replies, "The light—don't know where

it's coming from."

The street's lit up by a bright, white light

from over the house. Dad kneels beside me.

Outside, a helicopter flies west

carrying a Suburban.

An ambulance, a stretcher—all-out commotion

across the street.

Moving west, UFOs fly by every two seconds,

hovering over homes in the distance.

Invasion? War?

I say, "UFOs," but Dad doesn't pay attention.

He gets up, says something I don't catch,

and leaves.

I'm confused and alone in the dark.