“Just think about her name and hit ‘delete.’”
I want to interrupt, say, “Don’t believe
the steps could be so simple and complete.
Love rifles through your trash bin to retrieve
each image that your consciousness erases,
and send you pop-up pictures of her smiles
and longing gazes with familiar places
in the background; corrupt all other files.
No download can remove her memory,
no shield can stop it hacking as it will.
No matter what we spend on R and D,
we’ll never match its data-mining skill.
Since man first scratched his code across papyrus,
no one has engineered an anti-virus.”