Some lines seem destined for the nearest landfill
—the way my name, when I type the wrong keys,
becomes ďAnt.Ē I feel like an ant these days,
lugging my giant crumb to some great sand-hill,
dumping it, and trudging off for more.
I wonder where my good old-fashioned brain went?
It didnít fit my head, like the attachment
I bought second-hand for my vacuum cleaner.
You canít do much good with a bad connection—
part A fits into part B, no exceptions,
or youíre screwed. Thereís no great adapter
to plug into, turn on the juice, the power
and the glory. Forever and ever, we survive,
trying dead sockets till something sparks alive.
previously published on ZinkZine, an online literary magazine.