SiliClone

I’m sure one day some pimply brainiac
down in Silicon Valley will find
a sure-fire means to copy-paste my genes,
and he will flood the market
with perfect clones,
an army of underdogs.

You’ll find me in restaurants,
all gums and teeth,
and my smile will be subdued
and blessed and sorry
as I lead you to your tables
and serve drinks and food,
cooing ‘Everything alright, sir, madam?
Would you like to have a desert?
Or the bill? Very well.’

You’ll stumble upon me
in the glossy aisles of shopping malls,
where I will show you the shortest way
to Abercrombie & Fitch, Toys ‘R’ Us,
the nearest perfume shop,
exhaling pheromones to force you
into more compulsive purchases.

You’ll ignore me while I sweep the streets,
unwhistling, uncomplaining,
while I check on your nuclear plants,
radiant with joy,
or sing a sweet lullaby
to your precious offspring.

Invisible I’ll be, and you won’t notice
my eyes light up
whenever a sunray cuts the poisonous fumes
because of some erroneous coding procedure.
And you won’t see the glint of
hatred and rebellion
until it’ll be too late.

I don't think the brainiac will be able to do it with just the information in the genes, but I'll have to avoid those perfume shops just in case.

Now that's what I'm talking about!

The subversion in this one is so stark it's almost palpable. The poem takes a self-indulgent fantasy-- "What would happen if I were ever cloned?" -- and turns it on its head. Instead of creating supermen to do great things, save the world, etc., the "pimply brainiac" cranks out "an army of underdogs": subsurvient waiters, fawning shop clerks, street sweepers.

This is nothing less than stunning, Dieter. The best poem I've read on the NitLet in ages!

Your Auntie

PS--The R&D area is "Silicon Valley." If I'm not mistaken, the word you've got here ia a brand-name for the substance (now, I believe banned) that used to be injected during um, breast augmentation surgery.

Yup! Top notch, Dieter.

@YesNo, you don't know the pheromonic powers of my genes ;-)
@AuntShecky, thanks for pointing out that silly mistake. Of course it has nothing to do with breast implants. And thanks for your much too kind words (you will succeed in making me conceited if you go on like that; well, there are murmurs, discreet but still, that I already am… lol) ;-)
@Hawkman, um, why, thank you! My face is crimson as I'm typing!

Striking. Society could never be what it is without those who service its elite