The world is ending sooner than we think. A dolphin told me that once,
unburdened herself as we posed for a photo
on vacation.
(To be fair, I was the one
on vacation; the dolphin
was in captivity.)
Thinking about the end of the world has me wanting to come clean about something.
Here's the thing:
When I used to identify as a vegetarian, I still ate tuna rolls at that sushi
place off what used to be Market Street. I know there's a word for only
eating fish, but all that comes to mind is pestilence.
Sorry. That sounds worse than it is, really.
For the record, I’m sensitive to the suffering
of all lifeforms. Of course I am!
(example: There was a time I cried for six days
straight thinking how many plastic fish there were
hanging on restaurant walls—
—statues of swordfish and yellowfin, little gilled figurines—
—and how one day they'd end up in
the ocean with the real fish. How
confusing that would be.)
It's not like the dolphin changed my habits or the habits
of the other people it spoke to.
It's amazing the things we'll overlook!
I guess selfishness is just part of being human!
HEHE!
(Too late now.)
(Or maybe it's always been
too late.)
We had our chance to make things right. That's what the experts say anyway.
(Or said…
How am I to know
who's alive anymore?)
Funny how convenience became apocalyptic. Decades of turning a blind eye
and then the future's at our door with a summons.
I Am The Future & This Is My To Do List 4 U
— Learn to coexist with fish of plastic and provisions
— Wade in the thigh-deep waters that will someday soon boil themselves dry
I'm thankful I was able to get my kids swim lessons when I could. They're quick learners and
very curious. Soon enough, one is bound to notice the waters
inching higher
up our bodies
and proclaim:
“I haven't seen land in a long, long time.”
(“Even in the hillier parts.”)
I'll tell my kids about the dolphin I met on vacation. Will have to explain
what a vacation was.
“Life is a swim lane through the Great Pacific Garbage Patch,” I'll say.
(I don't know exactly
what that means,
but it sounds poetic, doesn't it?)
Next time a marker floats by, maybe I'll write it down on the paper scraps
we store high up in the trees.
I Am The Future & This Is My To Do List 4 U
— [REDACTED]
— [REDACTED]
— [IT GOES ON LIKE THIS FOR A WHILE]
FADE TO BLACK
(Then there's light again—)
Adam Gianforcaro is the author of the poetry collection Every Living Day (Thirty West Publishing House, 2023). His work can be found in The Offing, Foglifter, Cheap Pop, Northwest Review, and elsewhere. He lives in Delaware.