Fantasy has been lost from Fênix, swept away by a wave in the ether. Most of the residents have fled, but Sorry and a wanderer were left behind.
The blind storms drifted overhead,
and in a sudden burst of bottled lightning,
Sorry flickered and disappeared.
The two of us had been no more than strangers.
I knew she wasn’t Brazilian, from her stripes,
her rows of sharply pointed teeth,
but I realized that I missed her.
A minute later, she reappeared, and when
I voiced concern around her unexpected
vanishing, she spoke of aleatoric teleportation
and positive ions in excess, with a smoky air
I’m curious, I said, to know a little more about you.
When I was underappreciated Madeleine,
I lived on a headland washed by the ocean of the clouds.
There, I drew in others—mesmeric dream absorption
of those who would escape from all that is persistent
between the veil of the morning and the shattering
of the truth.
Our community was close-knit, fenceless
till the winds began to blow. Locks appeared
on doors and windows that rattled in their frames,
and I would lie in bed and wait
for an obscure shade of light.
When the ether wave arrived, I was swept away to Fênix,
my modest car as well, and despite the parabolic fall,
it runs like new.
Come with me for a drive.
I feared imprisonment in someone else’s dream,
and her vehicle had no license plates.
I hesitated, and Sorry shared a vision
of tomorrow’s world.
The distillate of humanity is polarized—
unthinking dipoles, birth and death, their trickling DNA.
When bound electrons escape their orbits
and weave their wild destruction,
no barking melodrama or eye-lined tears
will avert the dielectric chaos.
We’re near our ending, you and I,
but before the surge of that electrified
dystopia, we may find a place of safety,
if you come with me.