from my first collection, Meteorology
It was after the nation-states broke down, and enclaves of races fought for power over continental trading blocks.
Normal people shot each other in the streets, just like that, though every living being is a cluster of data, unique, irreplaceable, the same as any other.
People spoke in capital letters as in the beginning of the gods or the one god, though every vision of the world is as good as any other, unique, irreplaceable.
Others raised their children in the high Mojahave, without tools, while satellites raced from west to east: they have no one to teach them where to dig water in a dry wash, or what to do if the red cactus pricks them.
Or is it we who will die off, from the loneliness of believing nothing?
Or is this the start of a new age, underneath the yellow street lights, the insects burning, drifting down through the stunned, sleepless trees?
First published in The Malahat Review
Return to Home Page images and text © by Alpay Ulku
