After The Light At The End Of The Tunnel
After The Light At The End Of The Tunnel
Flash.
According to the dictates of my demographic profile,
my genus species will already be in my parents basement.
Flash.
Why I am not in the basement of the modest urban structure,
whose mortgage interest I am entitled as a tax deduction,
I know not.
Flash.
It must be April for all the half windows are open, to change out the winter's musty air.
This is a new 15 inch monitor, and the AMD 550 works fine after flashing the socket 7 mb bios.
Flash.
It must be April, and I have enough hard drive space to do the humungous install
of this new game, the last of it's kind on the shelf. Fallout. It must be April 1998.
Flash.
My g-ge-gen- generation when we asked about shelter,
were told to duck and cover under our desks.
Windowless central halls were only for the reality of hurricane drill.
My g-ge-gen- generation in the coastal towns,
and all the minor military ground zeros
were comforted by the concept that no shelter could be deep enough
we would all be dead in the first ...
Flash.
My g-ge-gen- generation was oiled with the promise of a painless big bang.
Dying in fear and pain, only the whisper of pre atomic whimpers.
Flash.
It must be April, 1998, and my player character is wounded and entering Shady Sands.
The late afternoon sun filters into, not my basement, my ... grand parent's basement in ...
It must be April, 1998, and my player character is talking to this perky townie named Tandy.
A voice from above says to be ready to come upstairs for dinner soon.
Not the voice of the reigning step mother, the voice last heard and buried in ...
... April 1974.
Flash.
It must be April, 1998, and my player character is killing rats *again* in this abandoned vault.
The late afternoon sun filters into, not my basement, my grand parent's basement in ... Kansas.
Must find a spot to save game, will go upstairs soon.
4too
After The Light At The End Of The Tunnel
Flash.
According to the dictates of my demographic profile,
my genus species will already be in my parents basement.
Flash.
Why I am not in the basement of the modest urban structure,
whose mortgage interest I am entitled as a tax deduction,
I know not.
Flash.
It must be April for all the half windows are open, to change out the winter's musty air.
This is a new 15 inch monitor, and the AMD 550 works fine after flashing the socket 7 mb bios.
Flash.
It must be April, and I have enough hard drive space to do the humungous install
of this new game, the last of it's kind on the shelf. Fallout. It must be April 1998.
Flash.
My g-ge-gen- generation when we asked about shelter,
were told to duck and cover under our desks.
Windowless central halls were only for the reality of hurricane drill.
My g-ge-gen- generation in the coastal towns,
and all the minor military ground zeros
were comforted by the concept that no shelter could be deep enough
we would all be dead in the first ...
Flash.
My g-ge-gen- generation was oiled with the promise of a painless big bang.
Dying in fear and pain, only the whisper of pre atomic whimpers.
Flash.
It must be April, 1998, and my player character is wounded and entering Shady Sands.
The late afternoon sun filters into, not my basement, my ... grand parent's basement in ...
It must be April, 1998, and my player character is talking to this perky townie named Tandy.
A voice from above says to be ready to come upstairs for dinner soon.
Not the voice of the reigning step mother, the voice last heard and buried in ...
... April 1974.
Flash.
It must be April, 1998, and my player character is killing rats *again* in this abandoned vault.
The late afternoon sun filters into, not my basement, my grand parent's basement in ... Kansas.
Must find a spot to save game, will go upstairs soon.
4too