Wormtape

memories get stacked in

our library with the glass dome

ceiling but there are not enough

shelves so the old ones are thrown

against a wall and away from the light.

eventually these 'books' turn into

messy metaphors as the bindings

have dissolved and no-one has time

to read about the continuations

of growing old so the fiction starts

to rise in popularity. problem is

those pages stick when you lose

your place -

then an online database

got implemented and the glass dome

was replaced with some computers

and even a coffee shop with free

Wi-Fi so when you get home,

all that's on your mind are the

symphonic beats or maybe a

distraction which doesn't

involve thinking

we never really get home, though -

that library becomes a high-end

Wall-Mart with a best-seller shelf

and we fall asleep in the

mattress section