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?
.
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