• Low crawling through the jungle vines
    Of Ethernet cables,
    Power cords,
    And surge protectors

    I fight my way free of
    A ravaging pygmy dust bunny
    And his pet spider.
    I call him "Charlie."

    But was I given a weapon when sent on this mission?
    A machete? A pocket knife?
    A screwdriver maybe?

    And so the tangleweed of wires
    Grabs hold.
    I choke and struggle.
    The darkness comes.
    I panic! No one is there to save me!


    Rising above the rushing blood in my ears
    Like the heady joyful sound of a chopper over rice paddies

    A voice!

    "Are you done being melodramatic?"

    . . .