The Green Machine

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Nukulo Kava (detail), mixed media on masonite, 1993 copyright GPD

Floating an hour or two, in our giddy weightlessness we’re actually convinced we like each other.  But, just under our awareness, private outlets have carefully divided us into cutlets according to their interests.  Not ours.

You clung and demanded and let go when I grew bored and the satisfaction vaporized.  You were so selfish in the middle of it all… after I was so giving at the ice market.  I gave and gave until my frozen fingers swole and ached like rotten teeth.
Turns out you didn’t even like ice.

The expressions of the Green Machine that controlled us from beyond were only representations of our futures to be performed by our overstuffed casings during the long sedentary work hours that lie ahead.

I’m starting to feel like I’m landing on a pre-determined point that splits me up the center. But, that’s my crust to bear.

There’s a plan bigger than they’ll tell us on TV or Goggle.

It’s like they’ve built a bubonic plague that can be transmitted through screens direct from that fertile and manipulative Blessed MotherBoard hoovering in Elysium.  We’re triggered all day long to shoot ourselves in the face.  After we’re reduced to hardscrabble, we might not even need a leader and the Holy MotherBoard can keep us in line.  Engineers work round the clock to solve our personal problems.  Hopefully, the MotherBoard, the Green Machine, arrives soon.  Maybe it’ll help calm you and I down.  Maybe it’ll fill in our divides and reveal to us places we’ll truly fit.

 

 

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