Sixty Nine

Nobody can possibly live like this,

plugged into the nerves of the city directly

feeling every car-crash and mugging,

tasting every drunken stumble home
and every regrettable midnight alleyway kiss
and yet
here she is, locked into the chair
suspended a hundred stories above the ground
like a seer-godess manifest in digital technology
neon lights and cable-tie jewelery

to keep the streets flowing with power
and feet rolling smoothy along the pavement

playing her people like panpipes.