John K. Samson

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My monitor is frozen

In late four-something sun

That cuts through icy patterns

Another day's begun



Recalling all my losses

While trying to ignore

The theme that keeps repeating

From Call of Duty 4



I tap-tap off the volume

And stare out at the road

Where cars and snowploughs scroll by

A broken line of code



From some embedded program

That executes our town

The river and the co-op

This house that's falling down



So tape over my window

With dark green garbage bags

Enclose my name in brackets

Make html tags



To start and end forever

Above the wheezy breath

Of cooling fans and hard-drives

Beyond the screens of death