Before the Year 2525 In the year 2020 we all grew wings and lost our hands.
Within weeks, buildings fell. Smokers reverted to chew. The
oceans turned to sugar-water and we stood by the shore,
tasting the sweetness through the soles of our feet like
butterflies do, crying when we stepped on an ant (the red
ones taste remarkably like Jalapeño, and sting beside).
In 2007 an earthquake triggered fire alarms globally,
the vibrations rent California from everything
else, but rather than sinking it floated out just far
enough to rest in international waters as the inhabitants
cheered and lit joints. Officials and autocrats were
unceremoniously dumped into life boats and pushed towards
open seas.
The shrill ringing lasted 3 days, and it
shook the milk from women’s’ breasts, turned streets to
tarry muck and split men’s’ penises pinkly down the
middle.  ¶ 2:02 AM