rhymes with hell

i hate using this computer
but i have to use it.
it's the only one
i have because the last one
made by a company that rhymes
with hell died again. i could
go use the desk tops down
at the local library, but
then i'd have to stand in
line with a bunch of six
graders who don't have
computers at home and are
trying to write a paper
on huckleberry finn,
or george washington.
every four or five years like
clockwork, the screen flickers
and goes black then blue with
a system dump of nonsense
shimmering on the failed screen.
it's fried like the eggs
i had this morning. i remember
a time when twelve hundred
dollars bought you a week
at the ocean in a swank hotel
with breakfast every morning
and dinner every night
and someone to secure an
umbrella in the sand for
you as you sat drinking
pina coladas until the sun
went down. times have
changed i realize as i  sit
here on hold with someone
one from hell.