It seems almost unfair <br />to write a poem about typewriters. <br />Maybe there should be a moratorium, <br />but before it starts: <br /> <br />I’ve noticed <br />a curious thing <br />about my typewriters <br />and my memory: <br /> <br />though I typed <br />papers and poems and stories <br />for at least three decades, <br />I can’t picture <br />myself doing it, <br />not even once. <br /> <br />The little portable <br />dad kept in his office, <br />the family’s noisy Smith-Corona, <br />and the enormous electric gizmo <br />I bought at an office sale, <br /> <br />They’ve all been relegated <br />to some interior warehouse <br />whose keys have gotten lost.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/008june2-07-the-silence-of-the-typewriters/
