poem of the day 09.30.10

technocrat

tired
she says
coming into the bedroom

she falls
on the bed
where i have small
stacks of cds piled
like fragile cities
waiting to be downloaded
onto my
new, expensive
music machine

i need breakfast
like a roll or something
we have rolls
she asks

are you doing this now?
i say
if so then i guess
i’ll stop downloading music
and just go to work

you don’t have to stop

i do
because last time
the fuse blew and
it took my pc thirty-minutes
to right itself

that was the microwave
that caused the fuse to blow
not the toaster oven, she says
besides you were
the one who did that

it’s the same outlet
i tell her
i’m just asking
do you need to eat now
or can you wait until
i get this done?

she gets up off the bed
and storms out of the room
a few of the cd piles stay standing
but most topple
like little plastic empires
brought to their knees

you know, she says
coming back into the bedroom
you’ve become a real jerk to me
since you got that computer
and the ipod

then she leaves again
and i stare a my
warped reflection
encased
in the hollow white void
of the computer screen.