Giving You Heads On An Unmade Bed

To the tune of "Chelsea Hotel #2" by Leonard Cohen
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I remember you well looking at a brain cell;
You were talking of mental elites.
Joining up neural threads from all of their heads,
Oxygenating them with your heartbeats.

You were the brain child and I the brain stork,
Delivering tissues and skulls in the flesh.
And you always knew when I'd bundled them wrong
Because the grey matter wasn't quite fresh.

Then you got away - Didn't you, babe? -
From the normal bell curve of the crowd.
In a few short days with Cas9 endonuclease
You'd augmented and then jumped to the cloud.

I remember you well, looking at a brain cell;
You were famous, your mind was a legend.
You told me again you preferred genius men,
But for me you would make an exception.

You pulled my hips close. I put a hand on your blouse,
But you had in mind something hotter.
Live electrodes snaked in, deep under my skin,
And pierced through my brain's pia mater.

I don't mean to suggest that I served you the best.
I can't keep track of each sub-personality.
I remember you well, looking at a brain cell,
And that's all I've become in your mental plurality.