In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 5-10

Outside the compound and the earthen wall
his ancestors had bulldozed into place
as defense for a junkyard and a mall,
to house some remnants of the human race.

Outside the chain-link fence that topped the hill,
rerouted at the point where Ciral stood
so to avoid what gave the boy a thrill,
and patched at other damaged spots with wood.

Outside the only family he had:
the mother and the sister he’d ignore,
the dozen candidates for Ciral’s dad
(if anyone had bothered keeping score).

Outside the little gang of would-be pals
who, when not splitting logs and patching holes,
would hunt small game and terrorize the gals
in preparation for their future roles.

Outside all moral and religious thought,
at least what we would recognize as such.
He’d learned that he deserved but what he got,
and that, believe me, wasn’t very much.

Outside the time that will be history.
Between two eras; neither now nor then.
Not noted by the people yet to be,
and unimagined by those who had been.

©2010 Louis A. Merrimac