the new type of science-fiction?
There must be expensive lighting and
cheap, accessible humor.
Zero dancing. Here
I am a person in a spaceship
talking to another person
in a different spaceship.
What I'm trying to say is,
colossal screens.
The people are itching
for it. They crave
discomfort. They never had
braces, their childhood
pets lived forever.
Today a man drove his car
into a tunnel meant for
the trains. Smiling
a perfect grin
the entire time. He was breaking
a few laws.
Here is another law:
The flag should be hoisted
briskly, and lowered ceremoniously.
Emily Siegenthaler lives San Francisco, California. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in NOÖ Journal, HOUSEFIRE, and Be About It, among others.
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