1. A conversation with Cyborg cashier working in Taco Bell .

 

I pull the night by  its fore limb into the driveway

And listen as the sound of my car slowly

Fades into oblivion.

I hesitate in all the steps I take into Taco Bell;

My body is an aching that must not die yet.

My body is an aching with insatiable cravings

For crunch           The cashier is a purple cyborg

Eye and codes intact          I feel a certain breeze of loneliness

So I ask                How many aches would it take the body to survive

                               To become indestructible ?

She, in her loyalty to her code, ignores my concerns and displays

A hologram of their menu       I’m too liquid to crave a Baja blast

So I ask again          How long would it take the world to bed rosés again?

 

Cyborg, in her loyalty towards her programs refresh the menu for something

Other than a crunchy meal.