Replica

Behind clouds in a perfect sky,
black writing crawls across a screen

> !— //. The plump clouds quiver
and drop. Scowling, the programmer

looks up. Is the sky too slippery,
are they catching on invisible scars?

Online, he reads about cloud stacks,
how to stretch and streak for sunset,

clouds lying broken on the earth
are not listed. The programmer walks

down a silver beach. He shares a joke
with a seagull about a crust.

> () _ //, he hoists the clouds
to the shimmering horizon.

He is confident that in 3 years
people will forget floating clouds.

They will be born short and learn
to adjust their eyes.