An Atrophy of Scooters

Ready to bound off to anywhere, The leopard-like electric scooters, All herded to the corners, Wait like the Venus fly trap For you to stroke their app. Among them the charged Rear on hind quarters, imitating louche kangaroos, Wanton green eyes Beckoning from handlebars in dinner dark. The used flop on their sides with the jurisdiction Of discarded fruit peels, Eyes blinked to black, Their agency exhausted of our agency. Throughout the city They flaunt themselves As the fleet products Of the fermentation of our times, tech bubbles Fully risen and breaking In foam and transgression Across the surface of the social system. Silicon minds scattered to corners, This feral population eats money, Trades mobility With the insidious consequence Of driving from the un-footed us The ability to quickly evade An oncoming Escalade.
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