Miracle

A poem

We were young,

happy,

out of our minds and parked on the ridge.

We were kissing, laughing, watching sheets of fog toil

across the tops of the trees. 

We were drinking what we always drank back then.

 "Alien Blood," 

A brand of sweet liqueur

Bright green, quite sour

quite good.

And then, wouldn't you know it,

a UFO came right down out of the sky.

But then it did something I've never heard of

on the radio shows

or in the UFO books

or even on those corny specials they used to run in the nineties.

Both me and Jane froze,

the thing froze us, I mean. 

We couldn't move.

and as the thing got nearer to us, at the top of the pines, it shrank down 

to the size of a bowling ball.

Minutes later, it hovered before our eyes,

no bigger than a gum-ball.

Then it moved down, and I watched as it turned into nothing more than a spark

and went into your mother's belly button.

Please,

don't ask her about this.

She'll deny it.

She'll call me a drunk.

But I know it happened.

And no one can convince me 

that you're not a miracle.