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It Doesn’t Compute

By John I. Blair

The network is down,
No Windows allowed,
No “you have mail” bells.

Technology’s crown
Of which we’re so proud
Now just makes us frown.

An unnatural boon—
There’s no printer hum,
No CPU rush.

Since silence prevails
We exit our cubes
And gather to chat.

We’re slightly annoyed
When technology fails
And our lives have this void;

But only too soon
The system’s back up,
We return to our cells.

©2003 John I. Blair

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