Blurred Hordes of Probability

In dreams, names float around unglued
Like labels under floodwaters.

The mispredicted thunderstorms,
So hard to forecast exactly,

Pounded the casita all night,
And the flash floods gouged the canyons.

Even the supercomputers
And the neural nets of AI

Now grown like vines to wreathe your world
Have only past to forecast from,

Only what’s happened to grind up
And spit out what will happen next,

And as yet they lack your genius,
Your ability to forget,

Selectively forget enough
To abstract and to generalize.

All night, your dreams imagine bits
Of memory underwater,

While your swimming self in half light
Tries to reaffix the labels.