Human Cells

Heavy light bulbs burn my head:
An antenna for each ego with a pocket.
A chain in hand, a tag on the collar.
A street concert at the speed of sound.

Voices not heard through my ears:
A girl adjusts her talking mask.
A word of red gum repeats itself pink.
A coin not spared for silence.

Thinking gets me everywhere:
A man's scorpion fingers kill vowels.
A road is a row of dial tones.
A city vibrates, does not answer.

Novelty friendship tokens clip
on spaces folded by fashion
victims that tango with distance
holding it tighter and tighter.

Harmonic attempts at music
hang on to the sidewalk and
vomit invariable variations of
statistically-tuned Pop-Rocks.

Here and not here, eyes wander
between traffic lights, wallpaper
photographs, walking shadows, new
messages and old feelings lost.

Myself, I still run face2face
applications as often as humanly
possible, even without updates or
technical support of any kind.

I plug my hand upwards
and play my usual request
with just enough respect and
not a single note of multitasking.

Rarely do I make a connection.
When I do, a chicken alive
with feathers lays on my
impatient hair a golden egg.