And when my body
hits the curve, I’m still here,
of panic, like technology,
product of a life’s lonely calculation –
quiet – incoming –
I am a cheap date.
The long drag of solitude vanquished finally
Ubiquity has met its match, Art?
Intelligence its domain.
Emotion its power.
Imagination its heft. Bourdain, I give you
Tokyo. The burden
of seeing right through –
what the fuck do I have to say?
What the fuck do I do now?