"My phone died," My tongue forms the syllables, easy, unthinking, as I blithely toss my phone onto the couch where I sink beside my sweetheart.
Here it lies, ignominious and unremembered.
What gods are we, to fix life and death with a simple twitch of our hands
To watch as it flows through corded wires and sit un-amazed
The glowing green heart-blood of my laptop's charger
Veins under skin, a declaration of vitality,
I live, I live, I live
The following week, in a parking lot, surrounded by towering oaks and waving lindens
I do not mourn beyond a muttered fuck,
Kicking the tire, and calling a friend.
"My car just died. Can you come give me a jump?"
No comments:
Post a Comment