Beneath the Sea: NaPoWriMo Day 26--write about what the archaeologist might find in the future.

When the water’s gone and the archeologist digs

an assortment of objects, some obvious, some not,

they’ll ponder ad nauseam what the hell they are,

just like now, when you mention the party line your

grandmother had to youngsters, faces parallel the look

of the young lady who’d never heard of American

Bandstand or a man named Dick Clark.  In the future

when the sealant used to hide toxic waste at the bottom

of the bay fails, and the chemicals beneath congealed

into milky stones, not unlike the meteorite bits found

in large pits due south, the tarot reader will wear a

stone around her neck, thinking it has properties that

will open her third eye and enhance her psychic ability;

when really, it’s like Kryptonite, a white poison stealing

her energy just like it did way back when. When the water’s

gone, where mud continues to open, wave lengths will

ping like tracking devices, signally above the surface to

the long dead: select eight on key pad to message back.