Inspired by Mary Valle below and encouraged by my friend Jan to do something artistic in my moment of hysteria, here is a poem to you on this fine Tuesday afternoon.
My laptop, Angela tells me,
will die.
One more clean install
to see if it will take.
I writhe on the stair landing.
J. tells me
keep your mourning short.
this day was coming.
My new cell phone screen
splits
in half and fuzzy stripes
the words are dyslexic
while I'm talking on the phone.
I start to panic
but decide to call Samsung Service Center instead.
They tell me to get off the phone and take out the battery
to jot down the serial number underneath.
I do that.
And my phone refuses to start up.
Again. And again. And again.
It is officially dead, 33 days after purchase.
I feel naked
very alone
in this landline-less apartment
gchatting
on J.'s desktop
not mine.
My heart is distressed.
Is this an electronic heart attack?
Will I be ok?
I'm afraid my electronic mojo
is something terrible today.
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