"A Month of Sundays" was originally published in the Mar/April 1991 issue of Aboriginal Science Fiction


A Month of Sundays

Geoffrey A. Landis


In worlds where trips in time are less exciting
Than to the beach, or trips to Buffalo
A month of Sundays means just that exactly
You watch the sunrise any time you feel
Have picnics just on days of sunny weather
And walk the dog the times you want to go.

In time, when time machines are just as common
as dishwashers, or cable video,
Science is a quaint and useless notion
It's all been done: you only look it up
There are no mysteries left, and no surprises
And people only die by growing old.

In a world where doors may open to next Tuesday,
And through your window breeze blows from last fall
War is obsolete; no one fights battles
When tomorrow's paper tells who won
They typeset books straight from the printed copy
And no one even writes them first at all

Where is means was, and was means also will be
Last week is just another place to go
People never ever say "if only"
If they have things to change, they just do so.
You don't ask daisies if she loves you truly
They never tell: and, anyway, you know.





Copyright 1991 by Geoffrey A. Landis
All Rights Reserved
Not to be copied or reposted without permission