I'm working on this ongoing piece, which is being "organized" a variety of ways on my livejournal. I can't put my finger on it but it's an emerging work and we'll see. Epic poem? Novel in ecstatic form? Extended commentary and gloss on someone else's work? (Samuel R. Delany comes to mind I suppose) chapter? canto? one and two.

While I grew up, so much of the good stuff
I read or watched or played at in the yard
had a twenty in the year.

So every time I date a check at the grocery store,
I feel like I'm writing science fiction.

Which angers me a little as I walk outside
and despite my bagful of genetic fruits,
my engineered meals packed into a single square,
the sunset sky is empty of zeppelins.

And the parking lot is full of cars,
every one of them grounded--
all of us helplessly remembering
how once we'd never needed wheels.

(Originally published as "2004" in Tales of the Unanticipated, 2004)