the highway
is
filled
with the fumes
of
dinosaur corpses
and
saturated fats
every mile
haunted
by the ghosts
of
every
molten memory
misery
is
the co-pilot
windshield wipers
smear
the
entrails
of the past
hammer down
the accelerator
as
the present
blurs
into
fleeting gasps
the future
is a
burning orb
on
the horizon
turn
the radio
up
loud enough
to
drown out
the incessant crying
to
drown out
the fact
it is you
screaming
hurtle
your two tons of plastic
and
rocket fuel
into
the flaming void
of
forever
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
today as we were running errands my 13 year old asked me if i thought we would ever have the future of flying cars, etc. off the cuff, i told him no. i told him we peaked & were now headed downhill…backwards. then i got profoundly sad thinking about how bleak our sci-fi future is due to greed & shortsightedness. i probably should have just said “yes.”
(i like your poem)
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I worry the fuse on The end of this world is too short for that type of advancement. (Thank you)
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