Weird Science

"Chips, dips chains and whips." I'm no Kelly LeBrock of the pillowy lips. The eyes that peer from behind mine -- is there a line queued at the psychic machine which shoehorns in another's mind to feel what I feel through my skin? I am a panel rattling loose from a human Arecibo dish: an array of brains networked to link with the Ophiuchi Hotline. In the shower, under hot water I itch where wings should be and bitch at the consequences of failing Kuan Yin and Francis of Assissi.