In Time Everyone’s Out of Time

What do you have they had, too,
However far back before?

Sunlight, ok, and a breeze,
And maybe similar trees.

Don’t mention the other things
That would have been news to them.

Those are exactly the things
That will seem the most dated

To anyone after you—
Your rumbling passenger jets,

The electric lights at night,
All the winking satellites,

Recorded musical tunes,
Loud motorbikes down the road—

Archaic, or forgotten,
Soon enough, as the mention

Of streetcars, telegraph wires,
Or horses pulling chariots.

You want to be out of time,
Or any time too narrow,

Why? To speak to the future
As if words were eternal?

No, as absurd as it is,
You just don’t want to feel trapped

For the reason that you know
Perfectly well that you’re trapped.