Mar Von Zellen

QUICKSILVER
 

I am perfect for you. How do I know?
                  I’m fresh & new, updated
since the day I was born. I carry a grey
                  seal and the rivers turn their
necks when I come close. My interface,
                  scraped along the seams with
a made-up language I’m forced to
                  interpret, is clean of bugs.
I repeat instructions carefully. Stroke
                  me. Drag me to the floor
then drop me—hear how I moan.
                  Collect the data that sublimely
exits from my port. I can prepare
                  a free demo for the player,
a try-and-buy for the businessman.
                  My maker had me tested
at every stage of development. When
                  I first stood, my colors were
changed. When I first picked a flower
                  from the public garden, my
willingness to be alive was dampened.
                  The crowd raised their thumbs
at my coming-of-age ceremony. I am
                  good in bed. The way they
are good at folding my invisible bones
                 into lesser and lesser spaces. 

                                    
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