When I was in high school, my friends and I were vandals.
We talked about burning down a house,
spray painted penises on dumpsters,
and on more than one occasion,
a crowbar would scream into a mailbox.
One time, we filled a milk jug with old paint
we found in the basement.
We put it out in the middle of a busy road
really early in the morning.
We hid in the bushes for like,
Just as we were losing hope, something happened.
It was straight out of a science fiction film—
a tractor beam started dragging the jug into the sky
towards some hazy blue lights hidden in the clouds.
I still wonder today, why?
Why do aliens need paint?
I thought they liked butts and corn.
Logan Roberts is an artist and poet from Ohio. He tweets @hello_im_logan.