"PING!" goes the microwave. "PING!" goes the yet-again-Internet.
The Lady of Shallot deletes Lancelot
from her facebook friends.
She pokes Tennyson but Tennyson doesn't like to be poked.
The world and its shadows stream through her BT provider.
A post informs her that "Popty Ping!" is Welsh
for microwave. She clicks Like.
Doesn't remember when she last interfaced with the real
world the big bad world
that huffs and puffs outside the frosted glass.
She posts a new status: "Agoraphobics are people too!"
What was Tennyson thinking of? She didn't ask to be created!
A woman made from "words words...words. . .words!"
"The curse has come upon me!" She has run out of Lil-Lets.
"Chop shallots & simmer lightly in butter, then. . ."
the Youtube video instructs her.
She finishes yet another bottle of cheap plonk.
It's so hard to be a fictional character
in a modern world that's gone digital.
She thinks of Googling herself but then thinks twice of it.
She falls asleep on the couch.
The cat perches on top of her head.
In her dream she is forever floating...floating
"On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky"
It's always the same dream.
Not only giving a fictional character a modern life but having had her have to deal with all things modern and yes....cruel as it may seem autocorrected.
And yes I guess she at least knew who she was or where she stood as a fictional character but by being autocorrected by a whim into a real life world and all its attendant miseries she probably thought it had been better when she had been purely a creature of words. I hate autocorrect as I wish to be the one saying what I am going to be saying and not a machine second guessing me....I could never turn it off on my phone and had to endure it.