Computers

Staring at the screen-saver,

My eyes begin to labor.

Such a bucolic scene,

On the computer screen.

I yawn:

“Wouldn’t it be nice to get gone?”

To sell everything I got,

Abandon all the achievements I sought,

And move to some secluded spot.

My eyelids droop,

And my posture stoops,

As I feel my consciousness sail away on a sloop.

Reality rips at the seam,

And I drift into a day-dream.

All of the sudden I’m at the podium,

Of a giant auditorium.

The audience is made up of two segregated seas,

One of Macs and the other of PCs.

All my fears of public speaking go away,

And I know exactly what to say.

“Welcome to the ceremony,

To join Bill Gates and Steve Jobs in holy matrimony.”

“Do you promise to love each other through and through,

Until death comes from out the blue?”

The two exclaim a collective: “I do.”

As they slip the rings on their fingers,

A sinister undercurrent lingers.

And just before they embrace,

The lights cut out darkening the whole place.

The computer crowd,

Lets out a gasp immense and loud.

My disembodied voice is cold to the bone,

Almost autistically monotone.

“I’m afraid you’ve all been misled,

Do you really think they would share a bed?”

“You’ve sucked the life out of too many office employees,

So we’re putting an end to your killing sprees.”

“Time to pay the price,

And be victim to this mass sacrifice,

To destroy every computer device.”

“Who wants to be the first to meet their makers,

Do we have any takers?”

“Steve, Bill:

Do what you will.”

I drop the mic,

And as quick as a lightning strike,

I’m back at my desk doing what I don’t like.

And with a smirk,

I get back to work.

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