Fingers fly like chorus line legs
and words emerge from abstract eggs
of thought; instructions
the machine is keen to obey
time disappears in the moment of flow
Twirling like dancers on comfortable chairs
legs wither while the mind dithers
between airy construction
and the pragmatic way
Whole realms appear by the terminal’s glow
Voices like saws-against-sheet-metal screams
rip the mind’s petals, bind dreams
behind flat reflections
of the concerns of the day
In rushes time, away the worlds go.
Inspired, in part, by this comic
