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Overloading the Machine

Loved Poem No. 3

quoting Matt Langley

"set out from color"
but found a boundary

at best, a fallen fence
at worst, weeds grown
at heart,

in our hands
there stood difference
the same under

a dive, a swim,
a pocket full
of flailing house keys
pairs of prankster
car keys we didn't hide
well enough

but we went far
from a certain date,
we may never—

made it
look shiny, past dents
spit and polish,
all the troubles
smearing by

against a fence but maybe
time, no guards to say,
step there, that's
the wrong way

hoarse with certainty
I knew—

I know
but where we started
a shoulder overlooked
the pattern we see,
"set out from color."

There is no character, howsoever good and fine, but it can be destroyed by ridicule, howsoever poor and witless. Observe the ass, for instance: his character is about perfect, he is the choicest spirit among all the humbler animals, yet see what ridicule has brought him to. Instead of feeling complimented when we are called an ass, we are left in doubt.

-- Mark Twain, "Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar"

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