and I have given up naming cars, waist length hair
and wishing for a horse. I do not believe I will live
in a spare, but gracious pod, that my modest house
will do anything but comfortably decline, or that my cat
will learn to stay off the counter. Indeed, I have let go
of a whole array of advocacy and mediation under the weight
of what I know I can’t fix. I no longer believe in the smooth
certitude of travel tubes or trust that a jet-pack future
will remake the whole world small,
after all.
