One Still Before

 Sharing with The Sunday Muse #176.

One still before the aliens removed their makeup;

They were always us, our future in Lycra and foundation,

Our future already laser-fighting irrelevance. 

There's always a store on the numbered exit

Cold drinks, gas. Virginia packaged dry as the sand gritting

your back teeth. It's always open.

Even there, they have that still. Somewhere.

Everyone sells that print. Or owns it. Or shudders, quick,

Underneath it. They were always us. 

If I keep it in my desk, cut carefully, the way you do

At twelve, on a long afternoon hiding from the sun, hoping for 

elves, not aliens...it's no less irrelevant.

One still before.  

So happy!!! Woke up this morning able to get up with minimal pain! And I think I discovered the stupid thing I did to torque my back into misery. Just wanted to share the relief. :) 

-- Chrissa