Poem Iv

There was a keyboard And then there was an open book On top of that, a taunting cursor And also a feather-tipped pen. And then I saw piano keys, And gadgets and knobs with teeth And foreign words and tongues With the tang of bitter history And I didn’t know what to say I didn’t know if I was qualified So I crouched down on the asphalt, Clawed at it ‘til my fingers bled And scratched my sad little thoughts into the earth and out of my head.