Living on the Sounds of Static 


 
We wear metal-plated pajamas
for business, for pleasure.

This is the future, we sleep
standing up, 

but wake up to sit down, 
while enjoying sounds 
of static with cohorts.  

We later orate in small tin
echoing voices.
 
We cast votes for towering
electromagnets.

We do not love anyone but ourselves
and even that
is not recommended.

We cannot pick tulips because we cannot 
fall in love,
and there are no more tulips.

This is the future— no one dares 
grow a beard, unless 
it is a fiber-optic beard.

No one dares kill ants or bacteria
without specific license.
 
No one fears any version of darkness
for our bodies
manufacture light.