The opening of an exhibition of our stuff at the time of our demise

1.

We’ll be extinct someday.

There’ll come a time when our goods are displayed
inside controlled atmospherics, with cool, blue-

lighting, high ceilings, and reasonably tight security.

Gawkers will question how it was we survived the elements
surrounded by such meager shelters, and behavioral ridiculousness.

On display:  The heavy tools of our blood-centered medicine,
the oily mechanics of our politics and our industry, and

our blockheaded, insistent struggle for steam.

What cartoons they'll make of our digital expressions, standing 

alongside our loved ones and our pets,–– nearsighted, stubborn, clumsy.

2.

Against the far wall behind the last display case exposing

our battery powered "clap on, clap off" lighting instruments, 

hangs a curtain with a red neon sign above reading: "Adults Only"