High Ground by Lacy Stuart | Main | untitled by Ilya *revised*
April 15, 2007
Liquefaction by Jesse Geno
It all seems so primitive, traveling along the various above-ground tracks and suspended docks, rock jetties—certain Connecticut towns daring to construct their piers a few feet higher than average. Haughty, if you ask me. All the darling little islands are a certain reminder of the impending liquefaction. You know if they put it in the Globe, they must have something planned. I imagine the big dig turning into Nine Eleven Two, anther national scandal turned insidious and mythical through having made an acronym. “The BD” old people will say, and sigh, thinking back to the times when they weren't old but young, and looking forward to the bright future promised them by various gleaming-tooth politicians. A symbol of Boston's progress. Predictably all gone to shit.
The marshes seem easy enough; all the discovery channel programs I’ve watched tell me that fish absolutely love moss. The trees (so valued in fall for their predictable decline—like clockwork) will perhaps provide temporary luxury accomodations. Perhaps killer sharks love living in trees.
The real pathetic thing about all this is the mobile homes sitting squat and frightened under the constant watch of Rich Hill Dwellers. You know the people living in the mobile homes have little to no capacity to actually move the things. I highly doubt any white trash or white trash populist politician is going to suggest pre-emptive floaters for all the low income housing.
The man across the aisle is staring into the abyss and laughing, laughing. Maybe that's Bill Hicks on his itunes but I don't see any headphone cords; I don't see anything but the slabs of land floating at ridiculous angles along the turbulent coast.
Posted by Overlord at April 15, 2007 9:35 PM
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