poetry and art by Sandy DeLuca     EIGHTY KILOMETERS FROM EARTH   Mozara rocks me; my alien captor whispers a sonnet; vapor escapes from his lips as headlights move down winding highways; a parade of mechanical slaves, drivers hypnotized by white lines and ghost voices from the radio We float closer My home-- where light years ago I played my flute cross-legged before the fire; when the stars were just a mystery; and Mozara watched, cloaked within an Earthling's facade; infatuated with my music; then he imprisoned me in a timeless void Every now and then he takes me back, so that I may smell the winter pines, see the first snow fall, cry at the funeral of someone I'd known... to remind me I am no longer flesh and blood Contributor's bio Table of Contents