Fictional cities pile upon each other,
spreading like blood puddles
until they spill into yet others
at their amorphous edges.
And distinction is lost --
homogeneity wins --
but that lysergic sadness remains.
Put the sun at your back
and
run headlong toward the darkness.
Killing days at record speed,
leaning into the terminus,
and you wake up in the light
and
prepare for another westward run.
There once was a mischievous macaque
with a knack for invading knapsacks.
When a zipper stuck,
'twas his terrible luck
to get locked in a trunk & run out of snacks.
There was a plump man of Hyderabad
who was known to be quite a tightwad,
but he ate his biryani
and never was scrawny.
He had a Hyderabadi biryani bod-y.
There was a man who moved into the Cloud,
being the first machine-mind, he was quite proud.
Until someone tripped,
and his switch was flipped.
"Tape that cord down, for cryin' out loud!"