We are not what we used to be. Molecular, cellular, or otherwise. The skeleton maintains, the frame remains. What we see and hear alters our thoughts, our knowledge, our beliefs. We have tolerance. Too much, most would say. But we know better, the love is unchanged. These seasons and these crazy days. Silence of the early hours, dancing with dogs.
Show your face, the rulers of the galaxy would shout. Walk like a punk girl, like Joan Jett. Put dimes in jukeboxes and love rock and roll. Those old attitude days, when we put our fist up and yelled. When we got it on, painted on walls, singing those same old songs. Shook your tree for peaches. The grins, the sins, the midnights. Til 2 am. Til closing time, then curve it home.
All an observation, just passing through, tapping out words, humming along, thinking about what the future will be like. The one unseen, never even imagined. Learning more about the past, the one never spoken of or remembered. The histories of the obscure. Important and connected to all of history, connected to us. Not in vain, but critical to our truth.
The bad viruses are frozen and buried near the poles. Keep them on ice. Watch out for the heat waves and ice ages, the wear and tear of travel. Something about the oceans, fished and fished. Massive, mysterious, uncharted. Sonar or radar or an MRI. All kinds of things from space are there. Almost intentionally inaccessible, guarded by sharks. Dangerous and delicious, the deep ocean blues.