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Archive for July, 2014

By the third day of my vacation
I am nearing the end of reading my book*
(Unlike most others around me
mine is still printed and on paper).
I sit drinking black coffee, finishing a creole roll
and reapplying sunscreen to the top of my head,
where my thin grey matte is no better
against the sun than being completely bare.

.

The book is about numbers
and the mathematicians who have turned
into Madison Avenue alchemists,
promising their overlords that they
can turn you and me into symbols
and equations; that we can be sliced and
sorted into factors, primes, variables which can
then be adjusted, aligned, tweaked
all in the end really, to get to the gold.

.

It hurts me to think that I am
so easy to know; that even after so many years
of trying to create a self that could stand out
amongst angels, I could be so predictable.

.

A congregation of plovers drops in
again, just as I read the last page,
and I feed them the rest of my roll.

.

.

Copyright © henry toromoreno, 2014. All rights reserved.

* The Numerati, by Stephen Baker

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