he is convinced
that god planted the idea for the theremin
in its inventor's head
to ensure that someday
we would all find it easier to believe in aliens.

he almost has me convinced as well.

tony, he says, i'm glad you're here.
the world is a darker place
without good neighbors. that frost, he
got it all wrong. no fences, no boundaries,
forget all that long history of division.

i don't believe in division either, i tell him.

we get along well, my neighbor and i.
he builds and plays and i listen. oh, and he flies too;
i see him flying over our houses sometimes
and i am surprised i can't hear any music then,
he moves so gracefully. but i don't think anybody hears any music.
in fact, i'm not sure anyone else sees him flying.

of course, i'm sure they don't see me when i fly.

one day, i have a moment of clarity.
if there are aliens, i tell him,
we might never know them. they might
be among us now. and they might not know themselves
until a theremin started to whistle.

now you're catching on, he says.