Jan 2020
a prozoic flavor mod:
It's 2020 vision,
mine. In my real, a robot named, by default, Bob,
is sweeping my floors,
not vacuuming,
I stand corrected,
Bob is a sweeper, not a sucker.
This is day five of my making note
of impressions,
buttons pushed,
on me, as Bob's illtimedwaking sent me into
startle response
overload,
until I remembered, this is 2020.
I survived until the future.
It's 2020 vision,
mine. In my real, a robot named, by default, Bob,
is sweeping my floors,
not vacuuming,
I stand corrected,
Bob is a sweeper, not a sucker.
This is day five of my making note
of impressions,
buttons pushed,
on me, as Bob's illtimedwaking sent me into
startle response
overload,
until I remembered, this is 2020.
I survived until the future.
I have taken on a year long project of paying attention each day, to parts of life that seem perfect for life as a whole, and me particularly. So far, far more than HP could stand, in terms of lines upon lines. I'm reading little and commenting less, but your eyes preserve me, dear reader, thank you.
