Search Engine Poem by Marcel Aouizerate

I typed your name in the narrow void
And hit return: you actually had several
Aliases, and none looked like you,
None stood next to some plane as if
'en route' towards the next postal fort,
None faced the camera with a similar
Expression of glee.

It is somewhat odd to find so many entries
For someone born before indexation ate
The sensible world. When asked
Whether things may repeat themselves
In such specific order, I would answer
With pages after pages of dead poetry,
And the occasional picture of myself
In a tight red hood.

Children were dressed like this in the seventies
Before the search box opened for almost
Everything to escape but you.