NaPoWriMo - 2021 - VIII - Girl with degenerate matter earring

Girl with degenerate matter earring

She doesn't sleep with anyone these days
sleeping is for the baseline flock.
She doesn't sleep, she rocks
every second the universe sends,

always a quorum of self-engines humming.
You don't know what business you might miss
if you take your cool eye off the ball, off the cityscape,
the world...  that's what she tells herself;

but really it's women whose muscled backs cantilever
into sportswear, older men with that curve of jaw
-- so many possibilities -- extreme augments
with branch-law manipulator arms,
fingers fading into fractal haze,

whom she knows have ways
of caressing you at the molecular level.
She hates the idea she might miss someone,
some unique experience of modern love.
And here's today's brand new obsession:

an Art Deco elf: brushed aluminium,
demigendered, ornate
in a restrained sort of way, and doesn't she want
to stroke those lapis lazuli inlays,

and stroll beside that sway that speaks
such fundamental things?  Those artfully
engineered limbs could be wrapped around
her own, plugs seeking sockets

for harder connections.  Panels flowering open...
Her earring pings servers, reads public profile info,
finds common protocols for sexing/romancing,
and, progressively advancing--in machine time--

finds overlaps
in orientations,
kinks, thinks...
--for half a millisecond--
negotiates a date.


If turns out that they're a she/they called Oona
and in the mood for a man right now.
Well no problem, the earring spins,
floats off the side--if you'd looked
you would have seen there never was a chain--

and now it emits lasers and coherent matter
streams and prints our protagonist
a new incarnation, fresh from the shelves
in her library of plans: a man

--the muscular one with six arms--
she(1) smiles to see, and he(2)
without a backward glance strolls off
to meet the woman he was made for.

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