iWonder

iWonder

Martin Gibbs

His iPhone, clutched in a sweaty palm, hums;

Send photos, posts, updates, texts, text, texts—

meaningless bytes spewed into the ether,

helped along by a rusting cell tower.

An iPod dangles from its bleached-white cord

stuffed in the back pocket of his faded Gap jeans;

next to the Blistex and pack of gum.

The petite box blares a useless top 40 hit.

Inside his designer backpack, the iPad churns,

Beeps, chirps, peeps, and tweets.

A Fortune 500 executive beats him at Fruit Ninja;

he sends more texts.

A chimpanzee in man’s clothes; devolution.

iPhone, iPad, iPod, iTV, iCantdealwithreality...

neck permanently hunched; bowed as if he were 100.

He sends more texts.

Text, text, text, text; brainwaves are zero.

Faster, faster—doesn’t wait for a reply...

The iBeam falls from the nearby tower;

death is swift, heavy, and loud.

... His only reply.