Lest We Forget the Cyborgs
Arguing with my dreams, I wake up, like Freud, unhappy. I move my words from room to room. It’s a precaution I take against the disappearance of the present. Every so often, I get ahead of myself. On the other hand, I love to catch-up. Outside, the trees are hot and, like trout in a swift flowing current, the breeze slithers sideways. The mountains blink in wonder. I start looking around for Ms. X, and wouldn’t you know it, she’s incognito. Like dark matter, there’s nothing harder to see than the invisible. Last time she and I spoke, I asked, Have you noticed how little time passes in a life? That’s why, like a secret kept from secrets, I spend so many hours inside myself. Incidentally, the new machines are like the old animals. When I watch them, I see the careful perfection of their mistakes. Of course, with only half a body, nobody’s perfect. It’s hazardous to flirt with technology. There’s only a thin red line of lipstick dividing humans and machines. Normally, they’re quite peaceful, unless they’ve been fired by tweet. Let’s not forget who’s boss around here, shall we?
Appears in de/tonations
