Alcoholic Cured by Aliens

On a two-week bender, drunk as a skunk, stewed to the gills,
broke, down and out, passed out in Fisher Park after dark.

Sound of an owl woke me up, tall grey alien clouded my mind
with its dark oval eyes, made me unable to move.

Beamed me up into soccer-field-sized alien craft, alarmed.
Aliens probed and injected me with what I don’t know.

Moments later, or maybe longer, time stopped in the craft,
back in Fisher Park in the morning light, sober as a judge.

Two years later reformed, straight arrow, solid citizen,
community pillar and CEO.

As told to Bob Boyd by a CEO of an international corporation,
who requested anonymity.