2012

He was starting to feel a good deal safer
with all the stuff hidden in those wretched years
that had flown past his long hair like a jet,
so much revs you’d think his brain had taken off
in a flash with the magic of mushrooms. He’d been
raiding his money far too long, allowing
power to drip like some leaked tab
to prepare for it, in an effortless way
to be all mellow, a pliable doll, mild-mannered
and content with the small pea of his brain.
For he knew soon the waiting was over.

-

She had run away with him,
Left all for the thrill to work
the spiritual roulette.
No one as sure as she of the imploding
changes. Disasters helped building
her confidence in certainty. Together
they’d hide in the swamps, away
from people, only a pack of dogs
for company and the wide skies
where the signs would appear in the clouds.
She had known all along the world would explode,
markets crash and foods run out.
For years she had noticed strange lights
in the night, marks on their bodies, terminals,
where flight numbers were always 2012.