Refugees from the Future
Periodically they appear, gaunt,
lines etched in their cheeks, not
round like us though all of them
are us which is the weird part.
They do not complain and have
to be pressed to say a word about
the future: it is hot, the birds are
not the birds you know, etc. They
take rooms in the public housing
set aside for them and spend their
time eating our snacks and drinking
our soft drinks until they start to
look a lot more like us which they
should since they’re us only older.
Sometimes they take a stroll by
their old haunts and homes which
they’re not supposed to do but who
can blame them though this makes
their younger selves nervous, you
know, being watched by someone
who knows how things will turn out
when you’re holding on to hope.