By: Christian Bauer
A-BETA access providers flout alt-country
atmospheric rivers with no back button, only the
blue screen of death. Meanwhile, bootleg
body cameras snap after-hour booty calls. A click through
the commentariat, cosplaying cybersurfers, Cyclospora, dead tree
deep cuts with endless desire lines of the Digital Nomad
hoarding dissociative identity disorder [DID] on DVD.
We’re a dwarf planet, pushed by e-commercing
fashionistas hopped up on fen-phen. A game changer.
What with gender confirmation surgery,
gender-fluids, Generation Z, and popping haliers into
jukebox musicals roaring, “Jumada al-Awaal,” spring keyloggers
disputing macaron or macaroon, unconcerned with the
latest microdermabrasion. Quaggy couch potatoes
horking down karmic neonicotinoid,
rewilding robocalls to safe third-country agreements offshore.
Infomercials roll “Santoku – the universal resource locator of soul,”
led by V-chip, parental-blocking, TV-athon static,
eyes landing, late-night, on webmasters (and webmistresses)
that curate-a-life dot website,
& Free Wet Willy —
Moonwalking to the Zig-Zag algorithm
chanting: “Peta, Exa, Zettabyte!”
What world is born into me?