If time travel were possible,
men from the future would be here tonight,
shadowing our footsteps.
Like squadron of Supermen
guiding their Lois Lanes
above the New York City night sky,
they’d carry you and me
and my dead parents
to a Utopian future
where death doesn’t end all arguments,
disease has been conquered,
food is plenty and unnecessary,
nor is there need for sex or desire.
But I can’t imagine
what my life with you will be
after we marry tomorrow,
much less a realistic Utopia.
Time travel is only possible
in jittery slow increments.

Carlos Hiraldo is a Professor of English at LaGuardia Community College in Queens. His poems have appeared in The New York Quarterly, Bilingual Review, Struggle, Latino Stuff Review, The View from Here, Other Poetry and Fire, among others.