Future Imperfect

She approaches the keyboard with trepidation

Not sure how to respond

Aware that this symphony

Is still forming under the dual hands of she

And him

Somewhere in


A nameless void

Where nothing is real and mendacity prevails


Such a touch

The caress of a message

Passing for what amounts to intimacy

In the brave new world

In this world that hurtles into the apocalypse

Singing show tunes on American Idol

While the polar ice melts

And beyond the tipping point

The abyss

And with all that

With all that, she

Hits delete



David Trudel  © 2012







1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

One response to “Future Imperfect

  1. beautiful, beautiful. Been there and done that!

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