for dad (doha 5/22/10)

doha: a poem written on the spot without editing. Usually 7 to ten lines or so.

What the fuck
is up with Bill Gates
and space and their satellite minds
and economies
with bubbles?

Is money made of water?

It can't be.
You can't see
the future,

but it's there, down that
long, mirrored corridor,

and I'm not.
And you're not.

But something that looks,
talks, and salutes just like
Walt Disney
just might be,

and he might be
a bit cold.