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A Cyborg Lover Would Be More Dependable


I am uniquely suited for my karaoke solo:

I will sing “I’m Your Man” and Leonard

Cohen will die a little bit inside. I know dried

flowers are bad feng shui; in fact I am versed

in the sounds of decay. Babies, pointing

at the homeless vets on Burnside and saying

“baby,” pointing at piles of sheets on the hotel

laundry carts, saying “baby,” pointing—pointing—

incessantly pointing! A cyborg lover

would be more dependable than you, you

and your erratic heart beat, but you, you

are not that different: half-human, half-perfect

bodies, one built, one born. I’m just looking.

I’m only looking for the chance to storm the stage

and if by some sleight of hand I happen

to save the world, I mean by unhinging—

(trying

not to think about tongue worms or

acid rain today)

the dying

must be stopped           they only lead to


further decay. Well,           this is something


that has crossed     my mind




Ellen Welcker