as in not only the aftermath but some aftertime.
Meaning what we survive, or what survives us.
The mail, finally delivered beyond the end of the world.
Little squares of sticky-backed neon paper, untouched.
The electric car whispering your driving score.
The as yet unimagined successors of the manila envelope,
the horse-drawn carriage, the pneumatic tube, 
end-to-end encrypted email.
Are we there yet, asks the speaking donkey.
Evidently not, if animation extends only to a 3D screen.
Meaning after the statues have come down
there are still dark, haunted histories.
Meaning we are in the throat of a moment
that hasn't completely spat us out yet.
We're working as hard as we can.
We can be as rust-colored fishbones,
as calcium stones, a mouthful of marbles
refusing to translate their brilliance.

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