Grandpa had a wild sorta look
in his eyes – the creases
footprints of some ancient beast.
He was a dry tyrannosaur,
stamping indignance into the
deforested floor. Unlike his ancestors’
imprints, his footsteps wouldn’t
fossilize. The world spins too quickly
now. There’s no meteor around
to set the record straight.
We’ve moved on to MP3s anyway.