Gurgling, squinty-eyed

life form trying to make sense

of the alien sights and sounds

of a double date. My still-together parents,

weary from nightly feedings,

out of the house for once.

Another young couple in seats beside,

a good three months removed—as the stork flies—

from their own life-altering arrival.


The loud noises, a tub of new smells

being passed back and forth,

the incomprehensibly large screen,

whereon another scared, puzzled life form

comforts himself with Reese’s Pieces,

tries desperately to

phone home.


The darkened atmosphere

is my only reassurance. The dark,

I recognize. The dark, I know and love.

Which is why I’ll scream and shout

and cry and wail

until I’m taken to a place

free from strange noises and smells

and bright moving pictures. Back

to the familiar cotton embrace,

the faithful shimmer and twirl

of mobile constellations in the over-crib sky,

the sleep-inducing scent

of powder and safety.


Back to my home planet.


by Ryan Frisinger


Ryan Frisinger is a professor of English, holding an M.F.A. in Writing from Lindenwood University. He is also an accomplished songwriter, whose work has been featured in numerous television shows, such as America’s Next Top Model and The Real World. His non-musical writing has appeared in publications like Foliate Oak Literary Magazine and The MacGuffin. He resides in Fort Wayne, Indiana, with his more-talented wife and couldn’t-care-less cat.

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