I liked it better when I could remember nothing
and embraced the waiting time,
telepathy just a step behind
the revolution of the planet.
She was an image
wreathed in arabesques, smoke
off the exhaust pipe of whispers,
I bought her a vodka grapefruit.
Those were the days
when the future was not only distant
but steeped in noir,
the allure of subtitles.
Jay Passer's work has appeared in print and online since 1988. He is the author of several chapbooks and has appeared in a bunch of anthologies. His latest collection, they lied to me when they said everything would be alright, from Pski's Porch, is available at Amazon. Passer lives and works in San Francisco, the city of his birth.
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