Ode to My Laptop

Sara Baxter
Resting upon my drawing table is a computer.
Atop the cleanliness of this shadowless, chalk-white surface with a purpose,
Above this ravenous, lonesome space; it refuses to be replaced,
My computer.

Not a pencil,
Nor a steady hand to cradle it.

Rather a sleek, suave hunk of metal and plastic
And a jittery hand grappling a mouse in order to move a curser
Which...doesn't actually exist in the strictest of sense.

Why?

Because there is information to be learned
There is audio to be seen
There is video to be heard
Or something in-between.

There are bored to death crevices in my brain
waiting to be electrified by...something
Anything.

Teach me dear computer.
Entertain me dear computer.
Remind be to breath
--give me reason to BE you damned computer!

So that I can finally move you to a better place,
And retrieve my chalk and charcoal,
And my lines,
And my memories,
And my dreams,

Make me good enough dear computer
So that I can move you to a better place.
The dinner table perhaps,
I'm sure the kids wont mind eating in front of the TV.

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