Poem: The Cloud

The Cloud

I refuse to believe
that The Cloud can be
understood. I’d like
instead to believe in
mystery, in a little bit
of magic. The answer
to why my new iPod
can’t automatically sync
with the computer
I’m looking at, or why time
insists on temporality, or
why memory fails me each
time when I try to recall
my LinkedIn password
should not be searchable
on Google. Rather,
it should be the opposite:
We forgot our smartphones
at home by accident and yet
we still managed to arrive.

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