he sat on his knees

before the

bed

by the window

and tapped swiftly

on the screen

of the cheap tablet he’d

bought second hand

It had only a few apps

and the one

he used was

the notes app

It’s hell having to tap

on a screen

to write

but the alternative was

scratching words with

a pen on

paper

and those couldn’t be sent

anywhere these days

He had to get with

the times

At night he kept dreaming

of a device that

would turn one’s thoughts

into written words.

The future will

bring that for sure, but

for now he couldn’t even

afford

a small laptop

It’s hell having the

words in

you, ready to blaze out,

and not being able to

offer them the means

Oh, he

was frustrated, alright

And behind him a

woman’s voice

kept asking ‘when’

“When what?”

he snapped…