We buy machines (don’t know how they work);
we plug in devices, to service our quirks.
They hum and they light, we use them till broken;
toss them into a pit, an omen unspoken:
till a new device we implant within us
smaller and smaller, like dust inside us.
We begin to change, we click and we whir,
we think of no one–I forget about her;
she forgets me, but her machinery purrs.
When I see her again, her eyes are unlit;
like other machines we were flung in the pit.