A Birthday Poem in Paris (Montreuil)

Life is marvelous, unpredictable, above all strange.

We remember George Meliés who

a century ago burned his studios

in this town to the ground

thwarted by Edison, Economics, and Fortune

(stupid brother!)

Jules Vernes had inspired him (earth's core)

to imagine travels inward,

and outward (smirking moon).

(thanks to Hugo)

We barely remember.

Life, again imagined, is

like our 'primitive'

ancestors in a cave watching moving

shadows as in a dream

of bending metal and melting glass

- Marveling! -

In a time before fire has been

invented (discovered) yet,

before iron or glass or oil ...

the earth rather undisturbed.

They used its caves but did not explode them.

They lived simply

before extinction.

Our own fears of apocalypse

might draw strange comfort

from remembering:

they lived.