this now

the future didn't march in with a fanfare and a parade
but stole in on feet of stealth
cat feet stealing on tiptoes.

like a slow flood that rises silently

to the proportions of a damned lake before you know it
and drowns the truth before it can raise its voice in alarm.

this future,

this now

has the harsh light of consumerism flashing its vain glow.
a cold, uncaring and indifferent place to be.