metropolis
the streets were filled with sorrow
when a young child, aged seven,
lost his beloved toy
at one of the intersections
of tall skyscrapers and
blazing neon lights
only to finally realize
that the skyscrapers were
really mischievous giants
stealing little firetruck toys
when evening fell
when evening fell on MSS Lusca:
a thousand arms
reached from the ocean
destroying the hull, the mast
into small planks of wood and cloth
(on the radar: a massive beeping dot)
from the horizon
a rain of metal and fire
the arms subsided
the captain rejoiced
when the sea split apart
and St. Augustine emerged
fully naked and fire raging
did we mine the last hydrogen?
when we exhausted all possibilities
we hauled the sun from the heavens
(what is it that you call those things again?
ah, yes, the Leviathan, wonderful how it sounds
than Large-Scale Extraction Satellites)
and created machines of wonder
ask yourself:
did your lovely iRobot protect you
when the big ball of fire
exploded into endless space?
