Tone Poem to My Iphone

There are no buttons! There is no resistant spring to the push of my fingers. I can check the weather, my mail, and my stocks, quickly and efficiently. And my fingers receive no resistance. If I was a girl, I'd carry it as a handbag. Now its simply a media center and I have a reputation to keep up. I'm still weary of carrying on a conversation through the headphones. I checked my voicemail through them once. A tiny, blonde girl thought I was listening to music! Instead, it was my dad informing me of the death of a teacher from my old school. I didn't know her, but it is nice to know that she can make my day now, finally, even in death.

Occasionally, I am worried that my leather case is giving people the wrong impression. Or more precisely, no impression. They did provide me with an Apple sticker. Perhaps it would fit nicely on the leather back. It could be tacky. Maybe the leather adds a needed sense of mystery. "Is he carrying...No, it couldn't be...He's talking on it!"

It is best this phone didn't exist on 9/11. It would have been totally underwhelming to experience such a cinematic event on such a small screen. And CNN dumbs down their articles to aid in load times. On TV, I could clearly see the plane enter the building. On the phone, the plane and building mold into one muddy mess. It is too difficult to make clear distinctions between life and death. Plus, 9/11 is something you really must experience in a communal setting. When you have to recount what you were doing when the terrorists attacked, it would be embarrassing to say you read updates on your mini-screen while lying in bed, while the rest of the world was enjoying the sensation of the apocalypse together.