Requiem for a Phone


I don’t know when I became slave to the little black box that speaks
Messages and tones and status updates.
Robbing me of my memory, storing up my lifelines so that I am at its disposal.
Birthdays, connections, scores, even the predictions of Mother Nature – you formed the diameter of my relational circle.
How did I ever finish conversations in the past
Without the wealth of a million little trivia facts at my finger tips?
How did I ever find a meeting place without the guidance of a GPS or Google map?
It’s a sheer miracle that I even knew where I was supposed to be and with whom
Without my little black box.
Thanks to you no one ever has to wait more than a few seconds for an email response
Or a text question answered.
You have eliminated any hesitation in the name of convenience.
So here’s to you, little black box, and to the world that you’ve made possible.
To the way that you so subversively dominated my life such that
I can’t remember life before you, nor can I imagine life without you.
Alas, your ability to alter my reality could not prevent your mortality.
One power surge and your life was gone like the memories of phone numbers in my head.
No more widgets, no more instant videos. Not even a local movie time.
Your departure has opened my eyes to the serfdom that was my mobile life,
I will never be the same, at least until you are out of the repair shop.

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