The CIA Invented Dinosaurs To Discourage Time Travel

My good will is tied up in fossil
fuels, lock the garage before
the avenue leaks in. Yes, I’m
paraphrasing the roar
of an El Camino, I wanted my body
to look sleek, racing stripes
from the end of every split hair.

Every year that doesn’t have my picture
in it is likely to not have happened -
youth is a myth the future tells
to keep me from, you know, up and
dying. Who is that kid in the cowboy hat?
What was a dream anyway?

I fight so hard to keep the present
on the dance floor with me that I can’t
remember the last time I slept
without a cup of coffee spilled
into the well. I’d like to lock the doors
once, but even the seasons seem
to want to know the couch could be
available if they wanted to drop by.

Dusk descends like a pawn shop
knife display, glinting hard
angles of almost rust.

-C.S. Henderson