touchscreen
the Garden of Eden is now a Mac store repetition cliques become clicks walking becomes Pokémon Go (is this even relevant anymore?) screen cracks and knees scraped on sidewalk cement i think about snail mail sometimes and wires and landlines dial-up internet had all the makings of a beautiful symphony or at least a minuet i steal my parents’ record and cassette collections (it’s the material not the sound that’s different) and i wonder when someone will remember the VHS tapes the way they huff and skip and draw lines over the actors’ faces i pretend my fingers itch for wheat fields and papier-mâché instead of Tesla coils i still prefer touchscreen over T9















