14 April 2011

My Hands Remember Metal

The world scaffolds itself
On binary magic and electronic illusion.
The cloud buzzes down
Instantaneous information
And High Def video
In too many colors for my eyes to distinguish.
My car parks itself.

But my fingers have become soft
As they wear away
The white letters from my wireless keyboard.
They know only the feel
Of contoured plastic.

They remember when
The world was made of metal.
They long for the cold glimmer
Of aluminum sheets  and the weight
Of a handful of steel screws.

My finger right-clicks and my hand
Pretends that instead of a dropdown menu,
It’s wrapped around a rivet gun.
It wants, every once in a while,
Blood on its knuckles, because
Hands don’t feel anything anymore.

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Day 14 NaPoWriMo. Sometimes I miss being a good old airplane mechanic.


  1. hey, i remember metal, i still work with metal. i am in telecommunications, i strip copper wires and do connections so that that guy in a home/office can connect to a cloud.

    wonderful post, enjoyed it. :)

  2. I like it! I think this is why I like to go outside and work in the garden. It's good to feel something in your hands. It's also why I prefer books and don't have a Kindle. Can't abide reading novels unless I can hold them, flip paper, etc.

  3. Wow...chilling write (or maybe it's the cool feel of the metal) Much to be enjoyed and
    savoured here!

  4. Too true! give me some metal!! I do like the idea of a car parking itself though!!

  5. Mouse, I have to say, I don't mind the idea of a Kindle.

    Thanks, Elaine.

    Andy, I wish I could say my own car really did park itself!

  6. A powerful poem and so true of high tech life today!

  7. I am not a technical person but I liked your poem a lot..and where you took it.. MAS.. Thanks for your visit.. RS:)