Member Poem

The Franchises of Time

Time travel became a reality.

Doesn't matter when,

doesn't matter where.

We were going to do so much--

then government thugs took it from us;

they were bent on creating

an eternal empire,

one that would extend from the first days

of habitable Earth

until right before the Sun died;

oh, they had it all worked out.

Too bad for those imperial wanna-bes,

lucky for the rest of us I suppose:

every change,

every decision,

is a branch point.

Take some heavily-armed outpost

in the Mesozoic:

soldiers shooting sauropods,

grilling the best bits,

and leaving the rest to rot.

They are whole new worlds

that time travelers live in;

that's why we don't see

Brontoburgers on the menu at

McDonald's.

They're out of this world, them

and their sesame-seed buns.