Data Rain

The information dam had broken in the hills,

the town was flooded with information.

All autumn the data rains had fallen heavy,

making a violent rattle on roofs and windowpanes.

It had been a very heavy information season.

Then in winter information continued to swell the streams;

the memory reservoirs were full;

and it seemed strange that no candidate was running on the

Less-Information platform,

suggesting that too much could make you sick

if you no longer understood it,

if you ingested it without question

because you were trying to get through it

before tomorrow’s storm of information.

Is that what you felt?

Is that why you began covering your ears and mouth,

and keeping even your mind tightly closed?

Because you were trying to preserve

what it meant to be private

even as you were being

carried more and more swiftly

downstream?