| Better Technoboosts
She had a bionic arm attached for good luck, in the name of rabbit’s feet and pennies, dirty and run over. We grow like light bulbs, pregnant. Lights out in time, flip and shatter. So what do you mean she got a bionic arm? Who got a bionic arm? Shush and I’ll tell you. I am not being secretive, I am being largely poetic, big bulb. And the arm? She needs to feel new, electrified and dehumanized. She’s had her love drive surgically displaced. The technology arrives in cereal boxes, prizes like microchips when inserted provide for a light de-ja-vu free of medication and other dark glasses. And she has received this technoboost care of Yes Maaam, I Have Arrived Magazine. She feels better without. That’s right, better. |