running alone through grey fog
feeling sharp like followed prey
wondering why you wore the neon fashions
of the day; a deer with a hunting vest
redshirt with a tricorder you thought
they'd make of you a hunter
but they made you visible, legible
to the distant drone
to the serverfarm fogmachine
whose haze now retroreflects, trapping
you in your own light, spotted you sweat,
prodded you smile and raise your hands