A new beige computer
in July.
Will anybody search the dictionary
for “Atari“?
It does not help with my homework,
as promised.
And instead exudes
twice it’s own weight
in mystery.
The game with the dragons
takes an age to begin.
We say “it’s loading”;
we expect it to “think”.
On the diskette,
the game that is less a game,
more a ritual,
misspelt on a label
by a market-stall owner.
A dragon is emerging from
the synthesised water.
The wizard is old and
his wrinkles show age.
We suddenly imagine
that the water is
an ocean;
like every usual ocean,
it will not quench our thirst.
We have all made and drank
uncommon elixirs.
The dragon is an omen
which,
in this story,
is a curse.
It appears to scroll across
mountains,
fields
and lakes,
and when the villagers hear its legend,
they have nightmares about a “virus.”
We have heard of “viruses” before.
The game does not begin.
The car can not go on the road,
and must collide
into the scenery.
Nothing will grow
on this tarmacadam.
On the road,
we can stare at
a screaming limb.
The head of a man,
with sampled voices,
gives us numbers –
we take one,
divide it.
The machine shows us bombs.
cartoon bombs on the desktop.
square-edged and round,
their little stalks,
like flowers.
The whole office disobeys me,
When the wizard appears.
He has many hands and
only two remain outside.
Peter and the Hare 