Adam Moorad

Children of Science

I’m right next to Sister.  She’s chunked out, but she’s warm. We’re in our little shuttle sipping daiquiris, watching what’s left of the globe spin. I recognize some of the buildings. Music is playing. Its summer and we’re happy. A litter of drones thunders up the Quad towards a clock tower.  The arms tick. Large chunks of soot pile on one of the serpentariums. The roof caves. Sets the monsters free. Beautiful, venomous bedlam. Calamity wakes up on the Ottoman. Her bloat has begun to affect her gait and the way she loads her rifles. Are you having fun? Sister asks.  She rests her lip on my lap and jangles her cubes. We are both old and miles away and our legs are swollen. The game is on. It’s a route. I say, No. Where did everyone go? Can we go there?Calamity lights the fins of her parasol and uses the charred what’s left as a crutch out and up the fire escape. Sister spines like an ostrich. Dunno know where to, she says. Guess they went home?The trees sway. A rare geometry of cows in the meadow begins to breakup. I balk. Sister says,What do you like about me? I suck my melt through the straw. That you are funny and easy to talk with. It was a nice day for a refresher. She seemed to accede. But, obviously, it was over.

                                                                                                      favorite souvenir: skipping stone

Adam Moorad is a salesman & mountaineer. He is the author of four chapbooks and a novella. He lives in Brooklyn. Visit him here: adamadamadamadamadam.blogspot.com.