for RDS

On the same day I’m given a dummy typewriter—
tin, hollow inside, perhaps a movie prop—
from a long-ago student who has never
forgotten my affection for old-fashioned
typing machines,

you and I head for the fancy computer store
named for a fruit to pick up a lighter-than-air
laptop to replace my old workhorse that,
bless its little hard drivin’ RAM, is ready
to spend its days

in the electronic equivalent of a grassy pasture.
And so we bring home a shiny new model
that I approach as gingerly as a new cat,
trying to let it gradually warm up to me,
remaining patient when it sends

testy messages like invalid access code,
when it really wants me to withdraw my
excited fingertips, leave it alone so it can
breathe a bit, close its electronic eyes, begin
to feel at home in this strange environment.

I get it.

Whether century-old technology or
the newest of the new, four-footed or
no-footed, sometimes you just need to curl
up in a soft place and shut down for a while.
And when you awaken,

blinking and bright-screened, you have
more patience as your new person learns
more about you, getting to know you,
what to say and how to touch you in that
just-right way.