TIRED
EYES
As
the web crashes around me
Into another
irretrievable hole
Tired eyes
and tired bones
Sitting
slumped over a plastic machine
Staring
numbly at the unedifying site before me
A rectangular
box, customized with ornaments
Desk tops
personal, short cuts to the favs
Lights
winking occasionally
Dust apparent,
the lost keys, the stapler
The pad,
the hole punch, the telephone line
The phone,
my life in a mouse click
Phewt.
(C) Copyright 1999
EWAN ELLIOTT
All Rights Reserved
