Thanks for Nothing, Assholes
(a poem)
by Victor T. Cypert
What we scraped out of Roswell
sent us down the dead-end road
of semi-conductors and binary algorithms,
transistors and integrated circuits,
dot-com booms and Bit-Coin blues,
low-current diodes and high-powered fans
riveted to titanic heatsinks
as our CPUs crunched away
at endless distraction.
We were meant to be a people
of flint glass and copper tubes,
zinc plates against asbestos padding,
coils and capacitors and crystals–
low-tech monsters in world-sized ships
out to prey on the stars.
Just got to wait for it to warm up, first….
