Dear Future

Dear Future,

There are quite a few of us
Who hope that you will exist,
And if that turns out to be so,
Perhaps you would like to hear
A bit of news from your past.
For example,
Within the last few days
In USA Inc.
One of our 1 ½ political parties
Has installed
An angry, belligerent, mendacious human male
Credibly accused by several women
Of sexual assault,
Upon a chair of high judicial authority
Without conducting a thorough investigation
Of whether or not
The allegations against said human male
Are true.
This is not surprising because
From the beginning of our tiny history
Sexual aggression and duplicity
Have never impeded a rise
To vertiginous positions of power,
And how can we argue
With tradition?
Another little tidbit from recent headlines
Concerns how our government
Is depositing thousands of foreign children
In canvas concentration camps
Where they languish in the raw weather
With only the most rudimentary care
And no contact with their families.
Some in our time might see no connection
Between the elevation of a mendacious sexual miscreant
And the imprisonment of desperate, hapless children
Seeking a better life.
But, Dear Future, we like to be optimistic,
And are hoping that if and/or when
You finally arrive
It will be widely understood in your time
That the two villainies
Were identical.

Buff Whitman-Bradley’s new book is At the Driveway Guitar Sale, from Main Street Rag Publishing. He podcasts poems on aging, memory, and mortality at and lives in northern California with his wife, Cynthia. Read other articles by Buff.