Siblings
There was my car, used but bought fresh.
A Pontiac Grand Prix, what bliss it was to see.
To press the gas sent adrenaline through my flesh
and fueled my longing to swerve and zip like a bee.
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Now she falls apart, piece by piece, not but 2 years since.
Every week a tire check, pulsation hammers into the brakes,
ABS and traction control, sometimes the alert box whines mid-park,
wiper blades, wiper fluid, hood paint peeling, front bumper scraping,
dashboard squeaking, cracking, breaking, falling apart as once-shiny rims
build and collect from every inch travelled, whores for every customer.
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There have been my computers, purchased without touch nor dust.
HP's and Gateways and Macs, they all would shine bright.
Cool to the touch and viewer, fast and quick by the processor.
Nothing would intrude internet hunts for those first few months.
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But by then, by now they don't take long to falter
Bit by bit they slow down, quick to show their faults,
trivial when individual, head-drilling in enumeration.
Browser fail, no internet detected, touchpad's wrong movement,
wrong click. Slow shutdown, hungover start-ups, no key registers,
application won't close, program aborted shutdown. Yes, send
my error message, but don't return advisement unless begging my card.
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They are precious and impractical, my cars and computers.
Ready to send me beyond even Everest's peak when I take
my first seat. Yet bliss is never eternal, as with life expectancy
of these collaborations of inanimate objects.
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