| they found it in basin granite. found that their fingernails scratched it. a sample was sprinkled in coffee. who would have known? the sludge tasted like alchemy. hats leaped over the camp til 3. the dozers came on barges, unloaded on the banks. by ten a.m., all trees in sight were cut to planks. up sprang a complex at the excavation site. by fall, they'd dug a cliff. the stuff was shipped in hellies marked "trust not what you see". every batch arrived, doubletime, with its own twenty cars. avocado men spent the week smashing crates with crowbars. they drank to new years, then returned to work. put the dust on Bunsens, captured its smoke; got the capsules out by sunday mass. the whitecoats banished small-talk cause the clocks were cut in half. fasted at their screens. purified the concentrate to steam, and had it out on halloween. who would have known? that christmas, the world was powered by the pyscho-electric, the titan-electric. generators that put dips in the crust and diverted the jetstream. our wars, our public transport, flew like a dream. the pistons--the continents throbbing was midly disturbing but: we all went very, very fast. then the generators blew, so we all didn't last. |