M. A.Reilly, 2021 |
And the world, entire
would load
before your eyes
And there's no more
And caches clear and all songs stream at once
The sound delayed, avatars retired
And all seasons complete at once
with the earth tilted on its axis no more
The weekend's lightning, languorous
arms stretched after lunch—you can't take more
And the robes are soaked; why,
they can't absorb another drop
and what's more
washes over unimpeded now
And there's more
The morning after
all justice meted out
all grudges would be lost
in the cloud
And power would go out
And all leisure would be more
radical then
And the fight would go out of you
with the world at your fingertips
guiding your hand
to the ends of luxury
It doesn't get any better than this
there's more
of the same
And who could want more
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