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Ode to an Awful Keyboard
by Francine DuBois

Well, you look neat,
slightly blue,
like some
color scheme
to imply
iciness, or
just the fact
that you're
not so hot.

My fingers
wobble
off you,
uneasy
as a virgin.
My pressure
eventually
makes you
yield, but
we both know
you'd rather
stand
upright,
erect
in your
rejection
of my
advances.

No one
can tell
me why
the "N"
key
is faded.

I could
roll
this keyboard
up and put
it in
my pocket;
it is rubber,
signals carried
through copper
lines on a silver
sheet. The
nervous system
of the keyboard
twitches as
I type,
caring not if
I am proposing
marriage or death.

We all
should have
buttons to
press entitled
"Sleep" and
"Wake up."

Twelve functions
would be nice
too.

 

***
Inspired by a computer used at Saturn during an oil change and Pablo Neruda's Odes to Common Things

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