The Future Needs

The Future Needs

The guts of the car clank and chug.
All of the future needs none

of your permission. Your handwriting
is still awful, your h, n, and m need one

less stroke than you provide, bob
their tails. Why, when you feed one

of your hungers, is it your sweet tooth.
And when you brush your teeth, some

of the enamel gets spat out, scrubbed
too hard. Smaller circles, leave some

of your bones intact. The year is
almost gone, and the week’s done

in days, but you squeeze the end
of the tube. Is the seed done

when the plant dies, not for the dirt,
it isn’t. You know the future needs no one.