The world tilts a little,
My right hand inexorably shakes.
Clench my fists,
Hold on tightly to my bag pack.
The stench of rejection
Never gets old;
It thrives on defensive behavior.
I remind myself in a monologue.
But to come too close,
I can’t stand the implication.
Playing ball with my primal,
Remotely sedating my intellectual.
I can hear the gods,
Laughing as they zoom in.
I look up and frown,
I know they are tilting the scales.
But what if I create a universe?
Maybe a bot with sentience.
Or is it easier to just wipe my memory,
And start afresh?
After all, it’s just a girl,
So why drag the universe into this?
I can’t say, with a clean conscience,
That there is a universe without her.
By coming to stand close
To me like that,
She did to me what
Marissa Mayer did to Yahoo.