The Future is Bubble-Wrapped

Most everything’s packed up, including the flying saucer, waiting to be delivered to the next destination, which is, as I write this, as yet unknown.

The Present is a hotplate of anxiety. I plug it in to make tea in the late evening.

The Past is pleasantly empty, quiet like a well-run rest home. I like living there—in the Past, that is—more than I ever could have imagined.

The Future is Bubble-Wrapped, stashed for the time-being in a series of Banker’s Boxes on which notations as to their contents have been scrawled in black ink by a Fine Point Sharpie Permanent Marker.