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Mr Mellon Puts On His Fingers |
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by Matthew Sanborn Smith
See him slide into his fingers Two-thousand knuckles crack Like a god his ego towers The universe, now smaller, cowers As it should; its Master’s back
Cry, the unfortunately fingered For piano they must settle While he plays upon its matter Grabs electrons as they scatter And turns the air itself to metal
Those digits find a parasite Its DNA perceived Leeching hosts of mice and men He massages genes within It now gives where once received
Five by five by five by five Those little fingers toss On whipping tips flagella flail Like a ripping typhoon sail On a ship whose ocean’s lost
Now he rests with head in hands Smiles from ear to ear All his work he now inspects His facial cells he now defects But won’t feel the damage for years
Matthew Sanborn Smith is 35 and lives in Florida with his wife and two kids. He has been a very, very part-time writer for a long, long time and a too, too full-time retail monkey for a slightly, slightly shorter time. You can see more of his stuff (not as bad as it sounds) at <http://www.geocities.com/exciteyourmind2000/>. AntipodeanSF is always on the lookout for short features and articles slanted towards the speculative. Don't be afraid to "'ave a go..."
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