Poetry Friday
Gifts to the Ancestors
When the first cell phone appeared in the afterlife -
Just like our kids did to us when we were old,
An offering of confusing technology,
We just set it in the pile of useless things.
Horses, money in foreign denominations,
Goddess statues and gold and diamonds,
All money, actually.
The older dead had felt the same when the first car came -
You're in your courtyard watering jasmine when BAM!
Lincoln Continental.
But cell phones and fax machines and stereos kept coming,
Interspaced with piles of money, which we use for bedding.
(I wish they'd burn me a posturepedic).
Still, we want to use the cell phones. They'd be handy.
But they never burn models of manuals.
When the first cell phone appeared in the afterlife -
Just like our kids did to us when we were old,
An offering of confusing technology,
We just set it in the pile of useless things.
Horses, money in foreign denominations,
Goddess statues and gold and diamonds,
All money, actually.
The older dead had felt the same when the first car came -
You're in your courtyard watering jasmine when BAM!
Lincoln Continental.
But cell phones and fax machines and stereos kept coming,
Interspaced with piles of money, which we use for bedding.
(I wish they'd burn me a posturepedic).
Still, we want to use the cell phones. They'd be handy.
But they never burn models of manuals.