Innovation

Streetlights, that turn the air
around you blue, hum quietly
beside you as you balance
on the steep and narrow curb.
I spin a knife in my hand
while I think and barely notice
when I finally cut my thumb.
You tell me I should try to sleep,
and I explain how I’m planning
to stay up and reset my schedule.
I know it isn’t healthy, but
there is something that is easier
to see the longer you can go
without a gap.
I think about mushroom spores
and can’t remember if they’re
something you can see.
We stare at a screen where people
punch through buildings
and those buildings collapse,
after trailers where more buildings collapse.
In the parking lot I buy a pirated
copy of the movie we just watched
from some girl with a video camera.
Now when I look back on it
I can only remember the film
in the context of the first time
I watched it.
That’s when I knew
what the next breakthrough
technology was going to be.
A machine that can make you forget.
I tell you this and you laugh and say,
“We do that pretty well all on our own.”