I could just scream.
With every dedicated effort in my bones,
And brain and fingers, I reach for today.
It shouldn’t be too difficult.
On good days I can think,
My hands are fairly nimble,
Timing not too bad-a good average.
Yet lurking there before me, not
The handle toward my hand. Oh, no.
Nothing that Shakespearen uncomplicated.
Barring my way, clouding my judgment
And thwarting my best desire we find:
Charging cords, modems,web site, e mail code,
User name, password, Ipad, Itune, Ipod,
Apps, account numbers, jump drives, weird
Symbols meaning what? You know #, ( ), { },
All tech jargon mysteries to torture us.
Want to order a new ironing board?
Good luck. First there is no thick
Book with enticing pictures, prices,
With a handy order blank .
You scroll and look and hope.
You find the icon Needed, you
Click, give out precious secrets
Prove you are not a robot,
What? A robot? What the heck does
My being or not being a robot
Have to do with an ironing board?
Bell Telephone, Sears and Roebuck,
Clerks at the hardware store,
And your radio dial once took
Good care of the smart, the middling
And the not so smart. the kids,
The grown-ups and the aged,
All understood and responded.
Oh, that those sensible paths might
Appear one day again. Maybe in
Australia, or some far mostly deserted
Land where the monsters of complication,
Obfuscation and hidden codes fall
Into the deep ocean before they landed
On those sunny shores.
Dream long and hard about black
Telephones in stairway niches
That when needed could connect you,
But mostly left you alone. Such bliss.
