May 14, 2009: A Dream
Humanity fled last night
to hives underground
to escape possible disease;
Americans shoved into shelves with impossibly small cracks to be shoved into by,
sealed in by the wires of their possessions,
wires shot across to submission by fierce, burnished androids who didn't shoot me,
who handed me a highlighter
and a card like a Commuter Rail ticket
and told me to count their shells,
to tally their averages.
The Androids, silver like they bathed in eye-shadow,
are impressed with my speed. I'm quick
“for a human” they said.
“I'm Ashkenazi” I said like that explained it,
and we—a man, a woman and I--
fled to the surface world un-pursued,
to poke around junkyards;
everything has been abandoned and it all ended up here and we wander,
picking through skis and docks,
trucks and mattresses and home telephones
until we find the little red car that might have been waiting for us
to ride away through towering alleyways
white with sunkissed snow.