When we arrive, the future will adore us
As being so much better than it expected.
We went to school with thugs and contagion.
We went to school with tidal waves and felons.
And we turned out OK. We’re at the future!
Greeting each one of us with a wet kiss,
And up until this moment, we’re … But wait a minute.
That smell of roses and that taste of wine,
They may be just the opposite when we get there.
Even though we’re better than expected,
Simply because we’ve made it, let’s be careful.
Let’s be careful hurtling toward the future,
Arms thrown open to embrace its billboard smile.
It may be just a very cramped apartment
With only Jean-Luc Godard for atmosphere,
A weeping parent, a disappointed child,
Pink nipples of the past turned gray.
And that fleet mechanism underfoot
Speeding us into transcendental space
May not allow us to stop anywhere.

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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 26 Number 2, on page 28
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