Time Travel is Wasted on the Young

When last we left our heroine
five years ago this day –
a lonely, idealistic idler
                a penniless, directionless zealot
shopping for an Ivory Tower
                                                                                                or at least a Bedazzled soap box
Has since found herself a bully
preaching standardized disillusionment
herding more sheep into the folded-
                                back pages of a test book
pushing propaganda suppositories
                                                                deeper into our squishy,
 impressionable future
answering to a higher
                                                                                                                level of bureaucracy
Lost among the ranks
                tap dancing in three-quarter time
                                played on someone else’s drum
screaming to be heard above the drumming
                                                                                above the preaching
                                                                above the sheep
seeking solace in her own mind
                purging the inner sanctum of cobwebs
leaving just enough space to hide
                                to fight
                to dance
So when next we meet our heroine
                                                five years after this day –
a productive, charismatic despot
                a confident, self-righteous cynic
promoting her own brand of commercialized rhetoric
                terrorizing sheep with acronyms
                                eviscerating  yesterday’s victor
dancing across the burning fields
                the blood red sky
the censored page
rewriting her personal history
                                                                and the world’s.

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