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as night waits summer nights late
spring warmth waits like a rugby sub
in the shot you see of him on the sidelines
in the higher number his track pants off
and warming up the sea is sky colour
and that is the colour of my laptop
screensaver a pale blue yellow eye
shimmering wet moist reflective
and curved in its flexible state
warming my gluts and all
I can think of during the
drive home from the
gymnasium soccer
is that a.i. has
become a
the creation and completion obsessive compulsion
how I once spent the whole night and the next day
untangling a knot of complex wires and strings
bindings I had no use for, but having started
having started…but this wasn’t a ball left mysteriously at my door
step on one of the final winter nights
and although we are the technology
exceeds anything created intuitive
emotional apps our clear faces
and clean eyes and the precious
transience of evenings in the symbolic centre of seasons
changing this feeling, beyond
data or memory in excess
of the ability to process
unfathomable bit-bytes
of logic, and to arrive
on two feet and negotiate
bail-outs with the BIS
and work off completely
wrong conclusions, to
waste parenting and drive
off your children with persistence
in utterly false commands to secure their afterlife




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