Well-Oiled Love

I thought I’d like some machine to be
My spirit animal as they seemed
Everything in this world I am not—

Designed, undesigning, purposeful
Replicable, and explicable.
So I tried them out from cpus
To rattling wooden water screws;
I tried every friend’s well-oiled love
From sybian to kalashnikov.

I found some ran cold and some ran hot
And some took stock of me while I dreamed
And measured all my complicity.
Gears don’t absolve any of us, people,
We’re all lazily reprehensible.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
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