Today I will headbang to talk radio
on roads to work.
I scorn the mountains ease
in stature suppression.
I see no reason why these dormant predators
sprawl such distances to blow long taunts at me.
I whisper,
why must you lord it over me?
and am issued
a noise violation.
I eat light and vomit fluorescents.
I pay it forward and overkill.
I count on fingers.
I pay it back,
eat right,
and I
overclock.
I shout alone in wild spaces,
and extinct the extant.
Tender cubs who patter skewed,
furry tree-dwelling cheepers,
their gravity ancient,
or flightbound hatchlings
whose brief fingers cannot count,
even they re-number my deficiencies.
Tonight I will drink with my computer.
Loose on digit soup
I appease the gears for their
cursory checkingins on me.
In thought,
I miniaturize enemies.
I crumple mountains
and tilt their change in
stressed cotton pockets.
I beguile masses in crowded spaces.
Now the endangered,
like tiny giants in safe-mode,
form to my sanctum.
Aliens and locals alike,
tycoons in navy dress,
or private herds
whose tides never waver.
Absolutely zero of these will know my power,
for it is imagined,
and will remain so,
for I am Nurphy always,
shorter than all mountains,
the overclocked eater of light.
