MICRO METRO
the first address held its breath under a northern sky
before memory had a file name the system was already running
a different window opened with the river somewhere off-screen
I learned a place by moving through it like an unfamiliar menu
the city compiled uphill brick, rain and late-night markup
I kept choosing view source as if it might explain the view
seven hills in the call stack each return leading home
the city stayed resident while everything else updated
a netbook balanced on the sink Huddersfield rain in the glass
downstairs, Linux talked in low voices upstairs, the next life compiled
the line bent without breaking towards another lit window
no final version, only this a cursor waiting after the rain
line remains open ↘