The Future Arrives With A Thunk

One day the future arrived with a thunk.
Dr. Cerpeption was thrown from his bunk.

He ran to the window and looked outside.
An ordinary morning, clouds on the glide.

And there in the midst of his small backyard
Was a giant cube gleaming, bright and hard.

The Future was on the side in bold letters;
Sans serif, he noted, sorting through sweaters.

He rushed putting on trousers and glasses.
Today, he thought, I cancel all classes!

At first he was anxious it might disappear.
Then a soft voice reassured, “It is here.”

The marvelous cube, as if with spunk,
Popped up and set by the dented thunk.

What, he wondered, can it possibly be?
Yet there was the future plain to see.

He circled around it squinting, scratching.
On each side was The Future, exactly matching.

And deep from within, soft and clear,
The voice repeated, “It is here.”

He could find no speakers or missile marks.
What kind of advent thusly harks?

Quick as a click, a slide on top—
And somehow a light without a prop.

“The future is here, the future is here,”
Beamed the chic neon pronouncement-seer.

What is it made of, what does it do?
I won’t prevent it from coming true,

Thought Dr. Cerpeption, starting to frown,
Thinking some students might feel let down.

When, unaccountably, a sphere
With a band around: “The future is here.”

It’s surely outstanding the way it works.
It seems to proceed by starts and jerks.

Here is the future and here is my yard.
It would seem that my senses should be jarred.

Yet every perception I seem to perceive
Is basically what I always believe.

It descended from inner or outer space.
The light is sustained by an anti-trace.

If it turns into a pyramid—
(And just as he thought it the future did.)

—Then it might as well be any shape
Or shapeless. I don’t have time to gape,

Thought Dr. Cerpeption as he turned on heel,
As The Future now began to unpeel.

By Hudson Owen. All Rights Reserved.

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