I see a sea of black ink with cartridges
that float like dead fish in a river
contaminated by pesticides.

There’s no sound of wrens,
not even a squawk of a crow.

There’s no scent of a flower, no body heat,
no hint of you for me and me for you.

The inexorable sadness of windowless aisles
filled with turbo-tax forms, rubber bands and paper clips.

This world is leached of green
with MacIntosh Apples you cannot eat.

It’s a Sisyphean struggle to breathe
amidst toxic plastic with shredders
that slice my soul into tiny pieces.

A living dead man with lackluster eyes
offers windows you can’t see through.

There’s geeky gadgets and gizmos,
cloud computers far from the sky
and Bluetooth speakers for a bathroom.

Before I leave the store, he shows me
the latest NTT DoCoMo 4g phone.

It’s better than a Smart Phone, Apple-iPhone
or Tablet, and will improve video-driven drones
designed to kill at a distance without shedding a tear.