The Computer's Adolescence
If you decide one day to kayak,
having never kayaked previously
in the history of your adventures,
you may forget sunscreen
or head-cover. You may bring
your wallet along, thinking you'd like
to make a purchase at the end
of this water adventure because
nothing says Kayaking like participating
in the free market economy.
You may go downstream because
it's easy but don't think about
needing to come back the way you came.
Now it's tomorrow. Now it's
the next day & you have sore shoulders,
you're hunched over like the 80-year-old
typing instructor you had in the 6th grade.
You were strained then as well,
because it was in that awkward period
in the life of computers—
the computers' adolescence
when they weren't quite accepted
by institutions yet, so you learned to type
on a Remington & it hurt
because it was designed for macho journalists
& dodgy novelists, men with huge,
hairy forearms & stories of politically incorrect
colonialism & insipid voyeurism.
& also you were confused about several things—
things other than your own pre-pubescence,
like how was this frail old lady so mean, & why
was your typewriter named after a rifle,
the kind that cowboys pulled from their saddle
holsters & shot with one hand at the black-hatted
bad dude. You envy him, the bad guy,
not for his bullet holes, but for his foresight
in covering his head.
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