The Key to No Regret
Suzie and I, tapping the keys
fire emails back and forth
so quickly it's like we're in the same room,
but talking through our fingers.
Wouldn't it be great, she types,
if any time you had a bad memory
you could just send it to a friend
by email, and ask her to delete it,
and when she did, you would forget?
Yes, I say, but why not take it further,
why not have the deletion extend
to everyone involved, and you'd never
have to be embarrassed again.
Later that day, my one year old son
plays with the computer keyboard,
tapping so carefully, delicately,
not the way he flings laundry
or rushes down the stairs -
his hands gentle, typing
invisible messages to no one
while he watches me across the room
slow-spinning in the desk chair.
If you've any comments on this poem, Jessy Randall would be pleased to hear from you.