Science Fiction

In the future, things will not be
Really all that much different.
Your descendants won’t be living

In a dystopian hellscape,
Or in a far-off star system,
Or under alien control.

If you have any descendants
They will think of you as ancient,
Your era, at least. They won’t think

Of you personally at all.
They’ll eat and sleep and defecate,
And occasionally they’ll mate.

Mostly they’ll breathe, gossip, and kvetch
About relatives and neighbors
And people who seem immoral

To them. They’ll tell untrue stories
And be fascinated by them.
They’ll live in shelters, probably

Not pods, whether all linked or not.
They’ll have work and conflict, also
Stars—whether or not they see them.