for Doug Melton
Miracles are tangible – they sprout
impossibility without a single doubt –
or the importunate desire to proclaim
or boast or flout what they’re about.
I know this now because my laptop,
which had crashed, has been restored
by the miraculous abilities amassed
by my computer guy who on the sly
I’m sure keeps planets turning in the sky –
that is, when he is not, through his
remote manipulations, altering the DNA
of apparatuses like mine, bringing them
to such unparalleled capacities for
fine performance laptops surely never
in their circuitry imagined could be had.
The very mention of his name –
Douglas Melton – melts the glowing
dawn of an enlightenment in the forlorn,
unclad, unknowing dark in me. What
else can I be but insubordinately glad?