My patience,
my fragile, limited-since-birth patience,
is dwindling,
because
my Kindle,
my functioning, paid-in-full Kindle,
is kindling.
Hunger Games in Cleveland. Memoirs by the Bay.
15 years of books and memories.
Libraries all the way.
But it could not be trusted.
The Cloud or a receipt.
You will own nothing after all.
The ultimate deceit.
You have had this long enough!
the insatiable Bezos decided.
It’s time to upgrade, buy again!
as the stakeholders Tellurided.
So now I have this rectangle,
(in a sophisticated, bespoke case!)
I suppose I’ll get creative
as its intended purpose is erased.
Do I?
Donate to my neighbor who hangs old iPads in her trees
to scare away the blackbirds when her taser’s on reprieve?
Do I?
Maintain as a tech relic for future generations
who then use it to buy water in fallout occupation?
Do I?
Wedge it beneath the leaking dish drainer tray?
(another Amazon product leading me astray.)
Do I?
Establish a museum to 2026
of all the things that piss me off (Bezos top of list)?
For now my trusty Kindle,
nearly old enough to drive,
sits blankly on a bookshelf,
never needed for a ride.
This location seems quite rude,
alternatives bleak in their portend.
Once a valued companion,
met a planned obsolescence end.
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