I listen <br />to the whirr <br />of the old dot matrix - <br />agonizingly slow, <br />irritatingly loud, <br />yet strangely reassuring. <br />So much a part of you, <br />my lusty love <br />and your Luddite ways <br />and your fistful <br />of blissful <br />words. <br /> <br />You dumped <br />(after much persuasion) <br />the electric Brother <br />you'd used for years <br />to record <br />(with two fingers) <br />those lines of love <br />and tears <br />that opened my heart <br />(and my legs) <br />some fourteen years <br />ago. <br /> <br />But the old dot matrix <br />stays - <br />(you've even found a source <br />of black fabric ribbons) <br />and every time I hear <br />its rhythmical, intrusive sound <br />(reminiscent of a dentist drilling) <br />I smile - <br />remembering <br />how much, <br />how very much <br />I love you.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-dot-matrix-for-jerry/
