When we go to bed, they are just arriving, hot coffee in their hands, stretching and yawning as the machinery in the warehouse switches on.
Deep in the heart of the cerebellum,
they rush into action, for they are pros,
each waving scanners and tapping single handedly on keypads,
racing from stack to stack.
They are honeybees,
fervently dancing from aisle to aisle as they touch and go.
Some robotic counterparts assist,
for they can access the hard to reach corners for the little things: names of hamsters, and of goldfish long departed,
the faces of great uncles on his father’s side,
nothing too heavy.
Rented vans filled with half-sleeping monsters are just arriving.
They scratch away the tiredness with their chipped claws
and groan at the prospect of another long night’s work.
Some check their teeth in the mirror
while others tighten up the laces on their tennis shoes,
getting ready for the chase.
The fears and nightmares are the best sellers
followed only by dreams for a better world.
I don’t mean wishes for peace and prosperity, of course,
but rather for a kitchen and bath that
belong on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens.
Covered in all the amenities of the good life. The kind we see on TV.
Dreams from our younger days lay in the farthest corner,
gathering dust,
rarely ever observed in the hustle.
Free overnight shipping keeps things hopping around here.
It’s rumored that full automation is on the horizon and that,
one day soon, drones will do it all.
Too many accidents are slipping through the cracks these days
and dreams that were never intended for some are delivered by mistake.
Most people notice the error and send them back right away,
but one group is beginning to cause concern.
It seems that when the artists happen to receive the wrong merchandise,
they are never willing to send it back.
No matter how many times they call.
by D. Ryan Lafferty
http://www.DartanionPress.com