From the moment he played Space Invaders
Andy felt at home, he begged
his Mom for books on Apple Macs
& Vic 20s, programming Basic, Linux, DOS.
He amazed his friends with unknown game stoppers
weaving magic as he moved his fingers
across the keyboard.
His Mom worried he didn't get out enough
as his Dad took to strutting at his local,
stories of his son flavouring his stout.

Andy's genius moved from Street Fighter battles
to stalking prey on the electronic highway
micro bugs, computer flu, strains unique to him
spread across the web & virtually crowned him

until his door was forced from hinges by flack jacket men,
his mother didn't know the depth of Andy's fingers
how his tapestry of interconnection
intricately weaved its way past internet security into bank accounts.

The handcuffs chaffed his bony wrists
twitching with their amputation from the keyboard,
as they moved him through the door
the slight slump of his back collapsing under the strain
of standing upright. Without the screens,
Andy couldn't speak
his brain unable to see a world outside the invisible
roadmaps where he set his traps.

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