by Susan Whalley
know how this happened; I’m bewildered and confused. I had a phone, a friendly brick I confidently used. But now I am the owner of an alien device With very few instructions that make sense or are concise. It has a hundred “apps” and more I don’t know how to use, But all created, I’ve no doubt, to baffle and bemuse. I don’t know where I have to tap and when it’s good to swipe, And if I need to sweep across, is it to the left or right? It’s no good asking in the shop to show you what to do; They’ve seen another punter far more lucrative than you. The family had patience but I’ve now become a bore. I know because they sigh and say, “I’ve shown you that before.” I think I signed a contract that my pension may just meet; I’ll worry later how I’ll pay for food and clothes and heat. Committed now, I soldier on, it’s practice after all. I hope you find some patience while you wait for me to call. My phone and I will not be friends, it’s irritated me And let me down too often, that’s not good enough, you see. But worse than that, I need to say, what really bothers me, It’s slimmer, flatter and smarter than I will ever be!
– Susan Whalley.