No look in this direction of less more. Shake the head –
the cocktail of thoughts for preview of a future yet unfolded.
Don't draw away from the flinching fingers, wobbling to the wind –
your feathers in flight for record height. What you press, what you say.
Multiply them by the path they will take, the wires distribute the cycles,
the circuits race with light alongside the lead, penetrating dark bored
cavities of which pockets fueled with what many crave. Craving etched
morality decreed through dictated authority, underneath the foot of lightning,
the rod dispensing PEZ. Sweet and easy, an unchanging rule fading behind
the least perceptible fingerprints, the fossils of our old ways' youth.
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