cell phones

i counted my dead
cell phones the other
day, so far eleven,
not counting the one
that still works.
i truly loved them
all when they were new.
sassy and bright, full
of life. they would
light up with a simple
twist of my hand.
i keep the spent ones
in a drawer now
in the kitchen, next
to the matches, the
rubber bands, a phillips
head screwdriver,
white out, and other
assorted junk, all
of them still sleek, plum
colored, red as cherries,
black like the ice
on a winter's night.
stone blue, of course
none of them work
anymore, shorted out
from water, dropped
on the street, batteries
gone south. i threw
one into a lake once
after a bad conversation
with someone i'd rather
not say, okay, linda,
and another i dropped
into a vodka tonic, icy
cold with a lime wedge
floating on top, accident,
that one, mostly though,
all of their failures were
my fault, if i had been
more careful and caring,
more attentive and gentle
with them, if i had
properly plugged them all
in when they needed it,
well, mabye they'd still
be working, but no, and
it really doesn't matter,
they were not meant to last
and the new ones are always
so much more fun anyway.