May 2018

At the Pole

In a rocking chair at what is called The Summit. June, 1888:

The Commodore watched it all revolve
While he himself was perfectly still
Airplanes, and other gravity defying vehicles, vaulted through the sky
Children piloting their own rockets
Animals with enhanced intelligence operating heavy machinery
The thoughts of the masses instantly converted into pulses controlling the Aurora Borealis
The weather at the flick of a switch
The men of business setting out to conquer emerging markets
Retirees clustered in small groups that dwindled before the Commodore’s eyes
The leaders, in togas and expecting wine at any moment, hell bent on executing marketing plans, stood before the herd of babies and whispered that which can only be sized as a curse

May 28, 2018
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