With every step we take on earth,
they say, we’re walking on past lives.
And that’s not the half of it.

Today, as soot drifts through a sky heavy
with haze and smoke from wildfires up north, 
I imagine shards of other people’s memories 
raining down from that famous cloud 
where computers store their ones and zeroes.

Words, numbers, photos, snatches
of email conversations – I try to picture
who created them, who owned them
before they descended on me.

The boy studying climate change,
the couple exchanging love notes,
the woman on the brink of a breakthrough –
I almost catch a glimpse of them
surrounding me.

And there it is. We’re never truly 
alone, never singular, never not a part 
of the human whole.
                        

The product is easy to run and terminates 
by itself, but expect some malfunctions
along the way.

About those malfunctions: The longer 
Life runs, the more of them crop up.

For the basic mechanism, steady use 
and regular tune-ups are recommended.

As for the central processor, frequent doses 
of birdsong and greenery may help.

Bear in mind that imprecise thoughts
and inexact words are the belts
that bind it all together.

And remember: It’s bound to end sooner 
or later, but you won’t find anything better.