To the Future

Fountain of the forward notion.
Crossroads of freewill
and dumb luck.
Science says I can reach you
relatively unwrinkled. Then in your clouds
only the faces of clocks
will be as vain as I.

Utopia. Tragedy.
Washboard of the mega-tsunami,
hot tub of the warm globe,
distant city of shimmering inventions,
you only love

what's new. Nostalgia and loyalty
with their pleading faces
just annoy you.

Between you and me so far,
it's been a pretty good run.
Sometimes I even think
our prospects are improving.
But I know you: you embrace many

and drop each one—
for you always
an endless stream
of willing companions.
Like me.
And to keep you,
I will put up with almost anything.

Copyright © 2007 Lynn Levin All rights reserved
from Cimarron Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission