A fortune teller <br />said a surge will come from below <br />to swamp the electronic humours. <br />'Even fortune, virtue and contrition <br />will not save you.' <br /> <br />That being the case, <br />he used up all his luck, <br />became as nasty as could be, <br />even sought vestiges of the contrition <br />he thought he'd eliminated years ago. <br /> <br />All that was left at the surge: <br />those humours.<br /><br />douglas scotney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/b-xxiiii-electronic-humours/
