“It was a dream”, they said.
“Ignore it. There’s beer in the fridge
if that will help your rest and ours.”
They turned up the sound on their superhero videos,
ate peanuts from a can, and tossed the nibs and skins in a sack
that they left outside for the little people to pick up,
preferably without making a noise.
I saw their pleasant house, with its heating system’s placid hum
and the empty pizza boxes littering the table,
blasted. No roof, walls blackened and half standing,
the windows without frames and glassless. And all around the same,
from the tickytacky developments to the castles behind the gates,
with none to mourn. No movement on the broken pavements,
no sounds but the wind through the shattered homes.
I called, and I searched, until body and soul alike cried out
“No more!” In every direction, as far as there was sight,
there was ruin of property, absence of humanity. I hid my eyes,
dreading the vision, seeking relief, knowing there could be none.
I must have slept, for what came next
was that bright day had turned to evening.
In the twilight a man stood before me,
tall, gaunt, unwashed, his hair, beard, and clothes derelict.
“You look harmless”, he said to me at last.
“What harm is left for me to do?” I cried out.
“What war, what hurricane, what act of God
has wrecked this place and made you its victims?”
“None of those”, the man replied and shook his head.
“Those who lived here – we who lived here – lived at our ease,
forgetting that comfort was not ours for the asking, until it was gone,
not to be restored at any price. Victims? No.
What you see here is what we brought upon ourselves.
“Heed me well”, the man proclaimed, “and may your people,
against all hope, take heed of what has happened here.
Know therefore, you who are cursed to live in times of plenty,
that you must live as though your lot is dire dearth.
Lest dearth, through your own actions, come with power,
seize those who are heedless of it,
burn them on a pyre built with their own indulgences.
Burn them, and all those who foresaw but did naught,
sparing by caprice, or by chance.”
At last the specter faded, merging into the present.
A candy wrapper crinkled as it missed the basket.
