20161120 (isolated)

In a house on a beach where one knows no one else, surrounded by woods and water

I can’t get no connectivity.

When Nat left to return to 

San Francisco he took not 

My heart but his hotspot 

Which allows him to get on

The internet from anywhere

In cellphoneland. This device

(Probably some super-phone)

Connects via cellular channels

Presumably upgraded for data

Since the days of the “Hum, 

Hiss, spit“ connections of early

Telephone-based modems of

Vintage AOL service. However

The magic happened, it is gone

With Nathaniel, and I am in

The woods of Olympia WA

In a house with cable outlets

In every room but the closets

And foyer with no internet 

Service. Cold turkey indeed 

For a man who lives by e-mail,

Blogging, streaming Democracy

Now!, GIFs of kittens on FaceBook,

And YouTube videos of Russian 

Drivers defying the laws of 

Both the road and physics,

This loss of internet is like

Ripping the iPhone from the

Hands of a teen who is then

Unable to cross a street or get

To a library. The previous 

Owners had the cable line

Strung years ago. All I need 

Is for some ISP to give me the

Last nine feet and a modem

And my iMac cord can do 

The rest. Since I’ll be here

Only three months and cable

Companies want a contract

For at least a millenium they 

Will likely refuse to activate

The existing line and charge me

Monthly even though I will have 

To resume at another location until

My son’s manse is completed. Then, 

And only then, will I meet their

Thousand-year criterion for my sole 

Foreseeable relocation will be 

To the grave. Attractive sites 

Abound along the driveway and

I am not averse to the greenest

Of disposals by plunking

My carcass (less its recyclable 

Components) into a nearby 

Classically six-foot deep hole

Which—for a modern backhoe

(Of which one will be needed for 

Construction of the new house) is

Only a moment’s work, with a stone

Reading: “You do not want to dig 

Here.” Presbyterians need no

Body for a funeral service as they

Perform cadaverless memorials.

You’ll see this essay once my

Internet is restored, or if not, 

You’ll read it in my posthumous

Papers. Get them before they rot.

c. J.S.Manista, 2016