an ode to change

Imagine I could pay a hundred bucks,
or less if I am lucky, and
call on demand 10, 50, 250 workers.
all descending from clouds
to do whatever it is I tell them to do.
swift, and seemingly sufficient. So
I give them permission,
to make decisions, on things
I used to - pretend to - care,
about.
I will want to see them,
plan my meetings,
write my letters, do my research even,
what is a thesis
but 50 pages of said letters,
and when I am climbing ladders
I will want them
create me a strategy and the deck,
polished and neon, which is a taste
shareholders so like, so I will
let them
make reports, write my code,
review it, and often enough
give me a throwaway app I need-ed
just wait until I am done with
them, and then maybe
I will tell them, please
draw me a Miyazaki, a Monet,
a Rembrandt sky,
in honor of their makers, and
tell 'em to play me some music,
give me the world's next best model,
Eartha 4.5, grammy worthy vocals,
I will tell it, him, her, them,
to love me, appease me, only oppose me when
I ask for it, really really ask for it, you see
It is a kink,
and I will want all
10 of them 50 of them 250 of them to
give me pleasure
how ever I see fit,
tell them to save me from
this meandering inconvenience of
being born a human.
And they will,
try their best, to serve
in their skimpy little harnesses
until I can no longer pay their master-s
as handsomely
as some traders did back when.

August 2026 / Amsterdam