two am, awake, turn to myphone.
flip, click, swipe
search. search my iPhone
for consolation iN my iNsomnia
glowing screen burns back at
the answer comes from within,
that which cannot be googled.
an iNtelligence not yet subject
to copyright laws. an untapped
uncorrupted iNtellectual property
of someone bigger than
even steve jobs.
the iPhone lies to sell iTself.
make iTself iNdespensible. but
here, now, at two am when
i’m alone, though i try, i can’t
find myself in myphone. iT’s
not an iPhone, iT’s not a youPhone.
maybe it’s a liePhone, and here’s the
gag: iT won’t help you understand
the big questions when you’re alone
at night, asking why, phone,
why can’t i find the answers i need
from you right now?
i stop, asking this question,
i am hardwired to something juicier