Tomorrow

He, she… no, they, are waiting around the corner at the end of the pavement – politically correct, biding the time of Big Ben’s ancient chime.

The future is mine and ours, devouring hours with our many power walks to and from our destinations. Avoiding awkward talks and conversations, passing nations of people: Carribean, African, American, and Asian, Queen Vicky in our palms.

I’m unsure of what awaits us but I am drawn to it, attracted to its [redacted]. Its anatomy. And the strategy is to work through the day until it turns to night, warding off slumber with all of our might.

We ought to fight, it is our right.

I hope we can survive… we just might.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s