As I am an older gent, am I, who appreciates the finer finds
of god's inventional interventions, acknowledges
though born by theft of mine bone,
all creatures feline,
I admittedly knowledge this
only heightens their aromatic scintiilating
Je ne sais quoi, that being how one says in French
"I don't what it is exactly, but I loves me some a lot!"

but I play favorites,
and her name is inscribed
in my rapidly aging brain, which
by the bye, is a poor excuse for writing
such a lame po-em
but what the heck,
lucky you, gets to smoke
the chaff & wheat

You Sir, Are An Electrician!


technocrat
— noun
a proponent, adherent, or supporter of technocracy.


This city boy was expert at
Turning the lights on,
Unlocking the front door,
Putting new batteries in flashlights,
And calling the handyman to
"Please come upstairs"
When the degree of diving difficulty was a
Positive number.

Also,
Freezing the semi-permanently the DVR,
Triggering alarms,
Killing car batteries,
Making laptops question
Human sanity,
Tearing up when reading,
"Some Assembly Required!"

Raised in a city of experts,
He was unskilled in things electric,
Becoming apoplectic,
When a device had an
On/off switch that ignored him.

Somewhat famous he was,
For engaging the inanimate,
In a verbal dialectic,
Which included words highly phonetic,
But unsuitable for children's ears.

She was raised in rural pastures,
Corn fields used for hide n' go seek,
Riding goats after school
Just for fun,
Familiar with innards of
Deus ex machina, a/k/a
Minor engine repairs, and
Doing what he called,
Making reparations.

IOS7, heaven.
Cabling laptop to external devices,
Icing on the cake,
Dis and reassembling a German coffee maker,
Did not require calling an 800 number.
She never read an instruction sheet
Without pleasurable laughing at
Japanese English.

He was unashamed of his skilled
Unskilled characteristics,
For such is the way of the world
In the human kingdom,
Some of us two handed,
some of us, bi-standers.

But upon occasion,
He would bemoan his fate,
Decry his inability to survive
On a post-apocalyptic Earth,
Like the people on tv and movies.

Periodically he would grow morose,
Listless, at his inability to adapt to a
Point Oh world.
Uncomprehending
Icons and symbols whose meaning
Were wholly unintuitive,
He secretly ashamed of his need for
technological ******.

She would sense his frustration,
Wipe away his inner condensation,
Climbing into his lap,
Whispering the following:

You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal.

Then, she flicked his
On/Off switch,
On.