In Futureworld

April 24, 2009 § 4 Comments







In Futureworld, I won’t need to

take a single step; I’ll squeeze my eyes,

and then (perhaps not gingham-dressed,

but flighty just the same), I’ll land with

gentle bump upon your meadow.


You’ll wonder who I am, this tiny

braided thing –  feet first, nose high –

your fancy,

and if the light is right, you’ll won’t

sweep at me or snarl.


In Futureworld, you won’t need to

read my mind, for we will be

connected: silver nets that stretch elastic,


visible to all.



 Writer’s Digest prompt (travel) April 24, 2009

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