Star Wreck A Poem by David Fitton

Snow on the unfinished rusty Enterprise,

in place of welded steel.

My garage is stuffed with incomplete dreams

Uncounted hours I give.

But children are a project that’s never finished.

One without a guarantee.

today’s breakfast is done,

and they’re ready for outside

and sunshine.

I want to meditate and

play the shaman music.

In my mind I can see it up there—

Rust thick over the “USS”

and the “1701” almost obscured.

memories of a future, that’s not ours.

I built it to rust after all

To say:

That the work of this age,

Giving it all to your boss,

who gave it all to the company

owned by the un-grateful

won’t lead to a golden age

No crisp red tunics, unwrinkled and unwrinkled-able

or energies enough to sate greed.

And tied to a desk somewhere

in some cubical

with a shiny ship

is another me.

But I unemployed see only a rusty ruin

After all.