Wooing a Motionless City

I told Pritchard I’d write a poem using Motion City Soundtrack and Wu-Tang Clan lines, and I hate myself for it.

I’ve said before that the future freaks me out,
bringing all sorts of ruckus in like the true
lives of dinosaurs and the 37 Shaolin chambers.
What secrets will be left if all time turns
fragile, our grandkids becoming digital
archeologists and breaking every steady
rock? Even if it kills them, they’ll cruise
through Russian roulette and mistake
every move as indication they’re ready
to bust a move with cream and fire.

-C.S. Henderson