Tonight's Poet Corner: 1996
1996
by Belinda Roddie
A computer's face
has two broken teeth
where I drill right in
with my whims. The
root canals are raw and open,
and I snap the toffee strands
from the cyber-molars.
All this
junk gathered up
in a sad, sad pile
makes me think of a
black screen with white text.
A "cd/" command for a
16-bit graphic game where
Mickey Mouse learns the alphabet
and a kid
with a face hidden beneath a
windbreaker and a baseball cap
zaps a mad scientist
with a remote control.
Sure, finicky electronics
from Doctor Who are fun,
and Cylon Centurions from Battlestar
Galactica are pretty intense,
but the basic function of the mighty DOS
makes me nostalgic for a
simple writing template
and a cleaner, fresher face
without all the sugary coating
and excess buttery flavor of
"Would you like to become friends with
your childhood enemy?"
by Belinda Roddie
A computer's face
has two broken teeth
where I drill right in
with my whims. The
root canals are raw and open,
and I snap the toffee strands
from the cyber-molars.
All this
junk gathered up
in a sad, sad pile
makes me think of a
black screen with white text.
A "cd/" command for a
16-bit graphic game where
Mickey Mouse learns the alphabet
and a kid
with a face hidden beneath a
windbreaker and a baseball cap
zaps a mad scientist
with a remote control.
Sure, finicky electronics
from Doctor Who are fun,
and Cylon Centurions from Battlestar
Galactica are pretty intense,
but the basic function of the mighty DOS
makes me nostalgic for a
simple writing template
and a cleaner, fresher face
without all the sugary coating
and excess buttery flavor of
"Would you like to become friends with
your childhood enemy?"
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