Writing on a borrowed computer - by Fstop Steve

Once upon a midnight dreary
While I pondered weak and weary
Over many a quaint and curious volume
Of some "Google" lore

While I nodded (nearly napping)
Suddenly there came a tapping
As if some thing was gently rapping
Gently rapping on the hardwood floor
"‘Tis a termite there" I muttered
"Merely this and nothing more"

Suddenly there came a whine
From a computer (is it mine?!)
A subtle snap - a little pop
A wisp of smoke rose from the top

The monitor was dark and dead
My body filled with instant dread
I shook it; slapped it; twisted knobs
The room soon filled with wracking sobs

My hopes of playing now were dashed
My computer system - it had crashed!
I raced it to the shop in town
“The thingy’s stopped – my system’s down!”

The tech approached with steady gaze
“I’ll have a look, but it might be days
before you have your system back"
(And get your meaningless life on track)

So home I slogged, dejected and
depressed past words, my thoughts still ran
of pixels, keyboards, ROM and RAM
I'm part computer - that's what I am!

And so I came back to my room
and thought of picking up a broom
to sweep the floor of dusty bunnies
buy a paper; read the funnies

But it's not the same, this paper thing
I miss my games, that electric zing
that keeps my eyes and brain in motion
while flying jets across an ocean

And it's on the computer I've been told,
and living in my little world,
that Sweetie says that I'm the best
(which means, I 'spose, I'm not a pest)

And so I sit here, drinking beer here
My heart so full of sorrow
“Sorry Sir, not fixed just yet;
But call again tomorrow”

(with apologies to Edgar Allen Poe)