SUZY'S SERENADE

A smile of transistors

began to speak

            of great unity 

in cerulean light, an unreal

harpsichord tinkled

            with lightning. 

To this end

none could be left

             in the gunmetal haze;

the pregnant, stenciled-on

            eyes watched

from the periphery,

            with no need

of clarions.  The baritone

            footfalls

were just as foretold,

            except we

were happy, marching

            into the sea,

our thinking

            done, our suffering.

Like animals,

            at last; all

we wanted & more.

            The static world

left to inherit would greet

            the nova, would be

the tickertape

            of our pyrrhic grin.