sizzling tangerine deathglitter. But what
does it mean? Is this really
a retirement plan?
All of us Company Girls
sitting in the Company Home
in our giant angular titanium suits
knitting tiny versions of our robot selves
playing poker with xray eyes
crushing the tea kettle with hotlilac chromium fists
every day at 3?
I get a break
every spring.
Big me
powers down
transparent highly-conductive golden eyeball
by transparent highly-conductive golden eyeball.
Little me steps out
and the plum blossoms quiver
like a frothy fuchsia baseline.
My body is
full of holes
where the junkbody metalgirl tinkid used to be
inside me inside it
and I try to go out for tea and noodles
but they only taste like crystallized cobalt-4
and faithlessness.
I feel my suit
all around me. It wants. I want. Cold scrapcode
drifts like snow behind my eyes.
I can’t understand