lines

lines

once upon a time
people, were
people, and machines
were machines.

now, looking out
across a tempest of cabling,
there are so many vessels –
empty and drifting,
lost lights blinking
like corpse candles.

the lines are gone
and people hold on
to machines,
machines to tell them when to join in
machines to tell them when to feel sad
machines to tell them how to dress
machines to tell them whose thinking about them
machines to tell them how sunny it is outside
machines to tell them when to have children
machines to tell them who to sleep with
machines to tell them who has more money than them
machines to tell them who doesn’t
machines to tell them which machines will tell them things better, faster, brighter

machines to write poetry on.