This poem was published in STAR * LINE, The Journal of the SFPA (Science Fiction Poetery Association) in the October-December 2012 issue #354.
THE ROADS ARE SLIPPERY WITH OIL
Occasionally tiny blue creatures
Glide across its surface,
Heads down, skimming for
Black algae.
The sun was flickering
Electric blue.
We were sitting by the side
Of the roads, smoking.
“The sun was never
That color,” you said.
“It’s all the fires.”,
I replied.
“We always think it’s something
Else.”, you said.
During the playback the image
Fluttered a lot and we
Couldn’t see the parts
With the gunfire clearly.
They advanced our ages
Very quickly. We could say
Nothing.
“Can we see it again?” you said.
“The tiny blue creatures
Look so different now.
Skimming, skimming.”
They led us away.
It was like being blind.
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