Divorce Court
Divorce Court
He doted on phishing, that viral, newfangled
invasion, though most of his handshakes got tangled.
He fumbled his Trojans, cunningly dangled
in front of my mouse so that I would be wangled
to click on the bait. My nerve ends were jangled.
And next came the item that put me in shock.
He wrote an apology titled, “Dot Doc.”
I needed a password with which to unlock
those few paltry bytes. They were all poppycock.
I guess I went into a meltdown, it’s true.
I said, “Keep your floppy and upload it, too,
but as for as this notional marriage, we’re through.”
I wouldn’t have minded so much, I suppose,
but he gave me an Apple instead of a rose.
I went to my room and I cried for a week.
Do I wish him well? No. I hope he is strangled.
Are you ready to guess who he is? Knock, Knock.
Who’s there? Sad to say, my ex-husband is Who,
the cyberpunk man I unwittingly chose.
Instead of a lover, I married a geek.
02/16/2018
Minuanetta
chremamorphism
Copyright © Laura J. Bobrow | Year Posted 2018
|