Induction

I think I was abducted late last night,
But not by aliens. There was a truck
That rolled past where my bicycle was stuck
And knocked me over. The impact was slight,
But bruises on my arms, black, blue, and bright,
Showed up this morning, which was rotten luck,
Because the interviewer seemed quite struck
By how they glistened in fluorescent light.

I don't remember much that happened then,
Except that — this is really what I think —
There's something in the bruises, maybe ink,
Maybe tattoos is what they are. These men,
The truck guys, pricked me with an epipen,
Or gave me drugs, or alcohol to drink.