Random Access

He watched his own enormous fingers
through a magnifying lens
as they sewed,
sewed, in morning light
stitches even-spaced and fine.
One by one each little square of fabric
took its place within his quilt.

Afternoons, in a darker room,
he wrote instructions for computers
                If cursor within area numerically defined
                                then show text, “Which color?”
                                else if p = q
                                                beep
                                else, nothing
                End if.
flawless labyrinths of logic
encoded in a language he had learned
that freed him from an office man’s routine.

The pattern of the quilt equaled the pattern of his mind.
He wondered if, night after night,
you slept under his intelligent design
you could navigate your life
edit and undo
change the hue of any pixel you disliked
because you had been wrapped in random access
all the time you dreamed.


- Ron McAdow