For the length of what moments
remain,
I have turned the air-conditioning on
and sunk into a pillowed couch,
with a dulling drink
in hand.
I am roughed by my work
and by circumstance,
arthritic, worn, made
numb to finesse.
The ‘news’ barks,
from a back-lighted big-screen,
that everything, everywhere
must be aflame.
As one more among many spent
witnesses to the blazing end,
my head droops down,
bends
away from high definition
colour
and cheap stereo sound.
Is this what happened on Mars
or the Moon,
some ancient while before the cameras
touched down?
Robert On The Air 