May 11: Spoiler Alerts, Tracy K. Smith, "Sci-Fi"

Recently, I have been thinking a great deal about the future.  It has a lot to do with my new job.  In less than a month, I will be starting over.  Again.  It will mean a change in my schedule and duties and coworkers.  Again.  This coming change has caused me a few sleepless nights.

Over the past two years, I have settled into a new life.  I know what time I have to be to work tomorrow.  I know what I have to do all day long.  I know when I'll take my breaks, eat my lunch.  I know when my work day will be over.  Granted, two years ago, I was in the same situation I am now:  facing an uncertain future.  That future is now my present reality.

In two months' time, my uncertain future will be a reality.  I may be happier.  I may not be happier.  I don't know.  I not a big fan of uncertainty.  I read the ending of books first, spoilers about movies.  I knew that Han Solo died in the new Star Wars movie before I went to see it.  I knew that Dumbledore died before I read the The Half Blood Prince.  Jon Snow is alive.  Glen didn't get eaten by walkers.  Jesus rose from the dead.  No surprises, that's my motto.

Unfortunately, the real world does not work that way.  The future remains a cliffhanger, and I'm waiting for the next episode.

Hopefully, Saint Marty won't be caught in a zombie apocalypse.

Speaking of the future . . .

Sci-Fi

by:  Tracy K. Smith

There will be no edges, but curves.

Clean lines pointing only forward.

History, with its hard spine & dog-eared

Corners, will be replaced with nuance,

Just like the dinosaurs gave way

To mounds and mounds of ice.

Women will still be women, but

The distinction will be empty. Sex,

Having outlived every threat, will gratify

Only the mind, which is where it will exist.

For kicks, we'll dance for ourselves

Before mirrors studded with golden bulbs.

The oldest among us will recognize that glow—

But the word sun will have been re-assigned

To the Standard Uranium-Neutralizing device

Found in households and nursing homes.

And yes, we'll live to be much older, thanks

To popular consensus. Weightless, unhinged,

Eons from even our own moon, we'll drift

In the haze of space, which will be, once

And for all, scrutable and safe.