No History

The future was a plane through a skylight

Over Tribeca at 8:45

My brother, at a conference room table

Watched the future rearrange all our lives

I was sleeping in her bed for the future

1st & 20th, five miles away

Her roommate knocked, he was a relative stranger

“Kev, I need you to come out here, okay, okay?”

The future was me, drunk at my desk job:

“Update the database, reflect the deceased.”

Cantor Fitzgerald as a digital graveyard

Next to each name, I typed a lowercase “d”

I was frightened by the face of the future

It had the teeth of perpetual war

I called my father, he said: “I know, I see it

I thought it made sense. I don’t anymore.”

The mosque on my corner

The firetrucks everywhere

The anger

The mourners

No history

It’s dead in the air

The mosque on my corner

The firetrucks everywhere

The anger

The mourners

No history

It’s dead in the air

The future was an ad during football:

“We are supported by the will of the world.”

From the floor, I felt everything tilting

I watched my brother hold his 10-month-old girl

Fifteen years later & we’re still in the future

The blood & money didn’t fix anything

We’ve grown accustomed to the depths of the danger

This is the future:

Severe & always happening

The mosque on my corner

The firetrucks everywhere

The anger

The mourners

No history

It’s dead in the air

No history

It’s dead in the air