Old, tired number crunchers

Some days
The darkness descends like snowfall
And regardless of the forecast
It stays as long as it likes
My mother once brought home
An old, mechanical calculator
It's rows of buttons and moveable carriage
A marvel of engineering
It required endless gyrations
To derive the simplest result
11x12 - you quickly know as 132
But that machine
Outdated
Spun and clicked excessively
To obtain that same, obvious answer
Some days
My chest opened up
Like an episode of House or Grey's Anatomy
I remember the joyful boy
Punching buttons
Watching the spin and whir
And I struggle to remember
Was I the boy
Or the machine

dg

7/12/11

Sent from my iPad
http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

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