My Modernity

I want a machine to dress me
so I can fly to work over the city.
A mechanical dog would be my companion.
No flakes off the mechanics, no ceramic chips
to burst in midair. My life would be one helium shot
of pure levity and bulbous desire. Sparkly and bubbly
like lollipops covered in rain. I call people
with a real good sense of themselves
"Early Adopters" they bring me gifts
from the future and instill in me a real
sense of how far we have to go before
the welts of modernity recede. When I walk
into my apartment I think: my god, what
a wonderful place to shoot a movie with
Madonna and Robin Williams and other people
like that who emote into the future. I think
the stars are aligning in such a way that
in the movie of my life the crew is remodeling my kitchen,
changing the blinds, discovering new rooms, installing
a conveyor belt that takes me from bed to desk
and a robot waiting for me with a martini when I get home.