The Profit (A Poem)
Once there was a boy,
Born in the smallest of places
With a celestial antenna in his head
He heard our conversations
He dreamed color TV
He woke up in the morning
And walked into the sea
Even there the signal lingered
Fisherman and thieves
He got some floaty armbands
And swam off to be free
And in the open ocean
Under sun and satellite
He found a fellow dolphin
Watching Price Is Right
The dolphin took him swimming
Cause that’s what dolphins do
They listened to the radio
Caught reruns and withdrew
After years of contemplation
It began to coalesce
The signal flowed like water
Didn’t give him any stress
And then this lonely ansible
Re-emerged on land
His flippers became flip flops
His fins became a hand
He went up to the mountain
Cause that’s where towers go
He started sending messages
Through SMS, and radio
He told kids to brush their teeth,
Told people not to lie
He told men to stop the fights
Told elders how to die
The mystics called him tragic,
The shrinks called him insane
The prophets called him cousin
And Google bought his brain
