The little pirates climb the metal scaffolds
and bust open windows with sledgehammers
they carry canvas satchels and metric screwdrivers
they attack anything that looks like a computer
or a digital display
and twist and turn and pull
until power cords hang like dripping intestines
pulled from a slaughtered pig.
Circuit boards broken apart for gold
and resistors melted down for silver
they’d chop up the titanium hull for scrap
if only they had the strength.
Let the snows come and bury the complex
let the ages come and swallow the memory of
rocket roars and noble cosmonauts.
Imagine history books regaling their students:
“Once we flew to the stars in a snowstorm”
and chuckle darkly over the what had been folly
in a future where folly is all there is.