Friday, November 03, 2017

Plastic Continuum

Photo by P.I.

I met a woman lost in space.
“Hello” she said, startled as I passed her unannounced.

The wind taught the trees a new tune and an acrobat leaf performed a yellow arabesque across my vision blurred by rain pixelated plastic glasses.

Ahead a full rainbow, robbed of all wonder by overuse, described an arc over ToyTown where the weekend huddled before soap-opera omnibus and pyrrhic sport-victories.

This luddite Thought Factory, as yet un-privatised, boasts full employment and stands firm against the thumb-numbing wave of automation.

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