Lanes Saturday, February 8 2020

Each woman with a laptop is a galleon. Sliding over a glistening waterway, that half the nights rallies itself into a thunderterror, she pilots her decaying lap-vessel to all the busy transactions of shipping, exploitation-discovery, and service-in-employ that can be found in the known world.
Enthusiastic to pursue these small patterns, a boy of 30 years once told me he would sit in quiet perusal in my company to rummage through assignemtns, if I didn't mind. He hardly spoke to me again.

The laptop is an orphan of souls, needy for a parent's attention, a contractual obcentive for attention-manufactour, or a vibrating lap heater in no disguise.

-CB Lanes