Spools
I am an inked ribbon
fed through an old manual typewriter.
Like all old typewriters,
the machine originated
in the belly
of a behemoth steam punk engine,
one already equipped
with an Artificial Intelligence
so fake that it was undetectable
in any time or space.
Eventually,
all such antiquated machines
must evolve into smart phones
in the hands of semi-morons.
Until then,
I remain just ink
held in suspended animation
until an ancient programmer
codes thoughts upon fingertips
that are still growing
in a stone-age Petrie dish.
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