No History

The future was a plane through a skylight
Over Tribeca at eight forty-five
My brother at a conference room table
Watched the future rearrange all our lives
I was sleeping in her bed for the future
1st and 20th, five miles away
Her roommate knocked, he was a relative stranger
Hey Kev, I need you to come out here, okay, okay?
The future was me drunk at my desk job
Update the database, reflect the deceased
Cantor Fitzgerald as a digital graveyard
Next to each name I typed a lowercase d
I was frightened by the face of the future
Had the teeth of perpetual war
I called my father, he said “I know, I see it
"I thought it made sense, I don’t anymore"
The mosque on my corner
The fire trucks everywhere
The anger, the mourners
No history, it’s dead in the air
The mosque on my corner
The fire trucks everywhere
The anger, the mourners
No history, it’s dead in the air
The future was an ad during football
“We are supported by the will of the world”
From the floor I felt everything tilting
Watched my brother hold his ten-month-old girl
Fifteen years later and we’re still in the future
The blood and money didn’t fix anything
We’ve grown accustomed to the depths of the danger
This is the future, it’s severe and always happening
The mosque on my corner
The fire trucks everywhere
The anger, the mourners
No history, it’s dead in the air
No history, it’s dead in the air