All Inclusive

But enough about my fearing the AI apocalypse

And the end of flesh as we know it, enough about

Those concentration camps of the future, 100%

Mechanized with simulated human interaction,

The interface between different systems of processing

Foreignness, enough too about suffering, about the

Beating of the tell-tale heart and how sorry/not sorry

We are. I wonder if it’s time to book that package to

Cozumel, lay down on the beach with a pot boiler,

And bronze until we’re beautiful. Let’s drink Pina

Coladas out of coconuts and suck on pineapple wedges.

We’ll choose the best of the six restaurants and gorge

Ourselves on tenderloin and salt encrusted prawns,

Share a triptych of crème brulee, sip premium bourbon

Out on the terrace, above the sapphire Caribbean, as

The sun does yet another gaudy disappearing act,

Spend an hour gabbing about nothing too important,

And finally stroll to the lounge and watch the nightclub

Singer with the smoking voice, like the latest greatest

Amy Winehouse, singing/living herself raw for us.

Louis Wenzlow’s poems and short stories have appeared or are forthcoming in (B)oink, Cleaver, The Forge Literary Magazine, Inflectionist Review, International Poetry Review, Jellyfish Review, Jersey Devil Press, and other places. He lives with his family in Baraboo Wisconsin.

Art by Rob Seitz