• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 09
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Forward Future

Catchy name for a company we thinks.
Ol’ Sniffy-Nose, posh knob of hooter risen
like an Upstairsy-Downstairsy, trust-me butler
will measure you up. We don’t like bad smells,
so if you got the stink of BAD PAST on you,
kindly wash. He’ll tailor you into the destiny
that you want – for a price. Fairer prospects
are not the cheapest of things. Everybody is wanting

future brights. For a little bit more, we can make you
forget, so you can start again all fresh.
Our slogan is REPAIRED HERE and that is how
you shall be, my losslings. Step on up! Don’t mind
the rubbish in corners – that is just what some other
draggles left here ‘fore they quit this blah-blah present,
went to the light. Tell us what you need wiped
from your minds and we will oil it gone.

Cough up your coins – tis worth it. Pass them
to the suited chap – his tape is ready to size you up.
Dark-hair Lady in the run-fast shorts will put
this crown of snakeskins on your head –
we are not mad, though I see you think it such.
Get into the box she sits atop of. There you will find
the amnesia you need. It’s the venom – once
it gets into your blood you can be a countess,


Forward Future

spy or astronaut, novelist or god. You won’t
even notice us slithering in, my diddums, you won’t
even feel our bite. We stay beneath the red silk folds
of that abandoned skirt till you have signed
the dotted line – if you spied us first, you’d run.
This is not fairground hokum, nor no quacks.
This is medicine for oblivion, for sufferers
of the world. The way to the Lethe.