Sophomores of the Future

Being born between centuries
How primitive we will look
To the reflecting youths of the 2090s
To the historians and their compartments:

The Age of Terrorism, of Misdirection,
When people thought the End was Nigh,
Again, before we got our act together

In the 2020s, when that new scene arrived
And some cats were hip, again,
In some new way that everyone flashed onto.

In the university, the sophomores of the future will sit in
On a mandatory lecture on the late 20th Century
Poets, one of whom still resonates, one of whom
Really captured the black, subtle confusion

On the cusp of those years when the continent burned
Or so it seemed. The professor will ask
“What were they afraid of?” and the two hands
That always go up will go up.