The Linux

At the far end of Redmond
where the Grickle-grass grows
and the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows
and no birds ever sing excepting old crows…
is the Street of the Lifted Linux

And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say,
if you look deep enough you can still see, today,
where the Linux once stood
just as long as it could
before somebody lifted the Linux away.

What was the Linux?
And why was it there?
And why was it lifted and taken somewhere
from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows?
The old Gates-ler still lives here.
Ask him. He knows.

You won’t see the Gates-ler.
Don’t knock at his door.
He stays in his Lerkim on top of his store.
He lurks in his Lerkim, cold under the roof,
where he makes his own software
out of vapourware poof.
And on special dank midnights in August,
he peeks
out of the shutters
and sometimes he speaks
and tells how the Linux was lifted away.

He’ll tell you, perhaps…
if you’re willing to pay.

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