Memories, imagination or indignation,
trod the corridors of backstories,
a renewed connection to a lifetime of incidentals
demarcated with wax pencils
as the elements of style voice irrecoverable
from Fritz Lang's 1927 Metropolis,
with Brigitte Helm shadowing a robot's
seductive power and the dangers of AI
as a portal into space-time's loosey-gooseiness . . .
Shockingly blatant . . . the iffyness
feathering far too many nests
flopping around in culverts
trying to alert gandy dancers
and knock-knock jokers to the reality
of flesh-eating bacteria invading
kettle holes and streaming services
causing massive fragmentation
and higher-than-high rates of confusion and dementia . . .
Pick a flick or enter the water with care
and be sure to arm yourself with a designer duffel bag
though I'm not sure why . . .
