pick a card, any card

 that hotel, months before/times, portent, looking in a mirror whilst atop a bed. crying for good measure: 

when we are sad, we imagine a holding. like that cold night, with her. after we broke a heart, like we mostly do first --these creepy fake humans herald a new age in ai-- in that hotel, without even the grace of a microwave, an unsent message of apology, 12 hours from the arms that can calm a shake in an overwork insomnia. her hands are new places to hold and contain and colonize this embodiment of softness --need more data for deep learning? these synthetic data companies will make it for you-- we sad and holding in colonized hand (fuck, yes, white lady; we know what we are) with the anxiety of our body positioned over oppressed, like we've felt too with that body above --reinstate similar hierarchies in a new world order of fake affection and on-the-job efficacy--