The Dusk of Decadence
The ballad of the unicorn's heart
They sit on the old walls of the great city and watch the sun sink into the orange sea out there beyond the ruins. They clasp and cling on to each other, the walls, and their animals, while seeking a warmth that no longer is possible. Soon it will be dark and perhaps the moon will shine weakly on them with its cold and damp luster.
Then the bard strums on his guitar and sings with a piercing clear voice:
The expensive perfumes are now the new clothes.
A mixture of scents like rivers leading to an ocean of indulgence.
Out there, on the rogue waves, it is meaningless and evaporates.
The scent meant something earlier, when it was a small stream
flowing slowly through a quiet(er) landscape.
Out in the wild ocean, everyone roils. Everyone. Everyone!
The sharks work in shifts. They never sleep.
The ocean never sleeps. It wants you here now.
•
The expensive clothes are now like rags.
Holes are thousands of dollars.
Stains are important but we don’t really know why.
Shoes are not for walking. They shall be kept in boxes by the thousands,
on a shelf in a large room.
The uniform code travels like lightning, and few dare to diverge.
Out in the wild ocean, everyone roils. Everyone. Everyone!
The tailor’s pattern is never quite clear.
But you must wear it. It wants you here now.
•
The expensive dishes are now documents.
Vats of wasted food.
Desperate platters pictured for robots to enjoy.
Others must eat what others show in fast moving images on screens.
Sitting around a table of lonely souls, few know how to share a meal.
Out in the wild ocean, everyone roils. Everyone. Everyone!
The chef’s recipe requires a unicorn heart.
You gasp at the thought, but you must eat it!
Ay, you must eat it, ay, you must!
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My sci-fi anthologies: Errante and No End Code
