by Lawrence J. J. Leonard
Remember the times
we all have stubbed our toes?
That sofa corner says,
“This is the altar of foot woes.”
Lifted a glass full of liquid
and it spilled off the table?
The moisture surrounding it says,
“No grip is able.”
Throwing wadded up paper that misses the trash can?
Odd shaped rubbish says, “You’re no skilled sportsman.”
I wonder if the things in front of my nose understand a physics we mere humans suppose.
Click a computer mouse or cell phone button too many times and get a screen full of nothing.
Electronic gadgets surveil us like a debtor, then crack on the concrete crying, “You should have known better!”
Why can’t my car pull in straight when I park
after turning the steering wheel a three-degree arc?
They still have not made a pen that won’t leak.
Or a corn chip to bite on that won’t cut into my cheek.
Took an online test and it rated me “geek.”
I hate my old chair,
but I’m told it’s antique.
This jacket of mine abhors my physique.
And new pairs of shoes that are chic
When my house key won’t go in the lock,
I just freak.
Pants make me look fat
and I let out a shriek.
Turn the faucet for water
but the stream is too weak.
The dishwasher cleans every plate with a streak. Inanimate objects attack, so to speak.
They seem to perceive we are helpless against them. This bothers me down to my very own brain stem.
“With inanimate objects
we must coexist,”
said one very smart
don’t know they are inanimate
and this is the one thing
on which we can bet.
Copyright © 1960-2018 Lawrence J. J. Leonard All rights reserved