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The Machine
Rhythm. Rhythm. Boom. Boom.
The rhythm reaches climax
And the machine unleashes his ferocious ritual.
He enters a trance,
A relentless athletic fusion
Of body
And beat. The heatBut suddenly the beat changes.
Rises as the next wave
Ripples its way from his legs
Up through his torso
And out of his fingertips.
All eyes
Dart to follow his feet
As they carve smoke out of the floor
With impossible fluidity.
Their pouncing performance
Several seconds ahead of him
While his body rollsAnd bakes
To catch up.
The onlookers strain to follow
The onslaught of rubber on oak
And marvel at this robotic,
Hypnotic,
Aerobic routine.
Heads turn in confusion,
Oscillating bodies lose their synchronisation;
Eyebrows raise.
And the pumping, plastic pop sounds of Bananarama
Slowly ensure that the machine is alone
To logout,
Disconnect
And power down.
Alone.
| Posted by Matt at 16:22 /writing # |