Wherever we go,
whatever we do,
whoever we meet,
we will not last.
Whatever we leave
will not last, either.
The earth will absorb it.
The universe will rub it away.
This is why our footprints
are not for the universe.
They're for all of those who
are coming along behind.
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Inconsequential Rambles
To have said it once
will hardly suffice
in this culture of the endless
instantaneous present,
tricked backwards into a news
feed, shredded
hard-boiled as an egg,
loved and curdled.
Getting the exit right
means repeating
the password in quicksand,
texted and retexted,
reckless as tics in an algorithm
whose cathode tube has blown
to snow, encrypted solutions
mobbed by multiple dissimilarities.
If that chaos won’t assume
solid national consciousness.
then corporate centers will be zoned
out and hierarchies leveled,
negotiating for a place in line –
open heart surgery, liver transplant –
based on who wins at Wimbleton,
match, set, or draw.
Ventures stall in a holding pattern,
now that any direction is possible
and aimless as drifting high
heels on the body’s runway,
where nobody cheers you on
when you have to start over
among so many clown masks,
unsure which is the grizzled,
which the endearing smile.
[Disposable Poem July 5, 2013]
Dr. Mike
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