A close companion
It's at his ear
again, the slim
silver case
he calls his 'Cell'.
If he screwed
it to his head
he'd be able to drive
without swerving,
walk without screaming
and eat without dribbling.
I wonder if he realises
that phone has him cuffed.
1 comment:
So true. You hit the nail on the head with this poem.
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