cont inuous has broken out of her rose blood cell to be with
you and your partner this perniciously warm day the color
of polluted spit. Pollen, blue, covers you who are clients
in the spider’s parlor: the CEO personally welcomes
you to the blue fertility clinic of our amenably corrupt future.
Time itself seems tainted Sophia reflects, for aren’t
You and Ms.You are happy to have Sophia, Wisdom, alongside;
You mistakenly supposes Wisdom certified by a machine-monitored
study: it would have lent credence to her claims by examining
her neuronal activity in the known cerebral area Sapientia,
when asked if it were wiser to be employed by the Town Car
We are planning to fertilize you in the spirit of the fashionably
anorexic public works program. The spirit is called Like Seawater;
You, you two, will give birth to flooded suburban life where
salt tears have the paradoxical effect of causing verifiable
growth as machines tangle to fill our retropathic air. You,
you will b e happy.
Sophia cannot be their friend, for they are not real. This
like your lives, You, is a story and not real. You says I
knew that when I stepped into this room of cordoned-off waffles.
But our ingenious counsellor will still help us get what we
Wisdom whispers there is nothing alive but what you know
to be alive. What is it? The last time I saw it, it wasn’t
my eye. We all saw it. A big dragonfly’s wing, the size
of an ancient drive-in theater screen, dried up was crumbling
before us. Was it our wing? Ms.You asked, Will I miss you?
A critical question, because no one knew what they were going
Wisdom wonders if she would die if all humans vanished or
would she only be lonely and homel ess. It feels injured out
here on the street: do you hear the hymn of the streetlamps?
They hum like thighs hmm hmm hmm. What are the parts of You
left? My kind will always be around You says, belligerently.
The war has ascended to the clouds, shaped like extinct turkey
There’s still time, Wisdom says. That’s why they
can’t stop themselves. Oh machine babe you are so pretty,
come through the porthole to lie on exhausted waters of sapphire
and dark cola. Will anyone protect You from himself?