Screw you little Mac computer man.
How dare you tap your foot or
Sway your little computer tush to the absence
Of my typing.
When I pause to think or check my research
You look with your nonexistent eyes from
My document to me with an arrogance
Too bold for your pixel count.
Now you have turned your back to me.
You casually provide sideways glances
Intermittent with the typing of this poem.
You assume now, because I am typing,
That I am getting work done.
But I am not.
You have distracted me with your judgment.
So I will pause, click your red ‘x’ to send you
And get back to the task at hand,
Minus your critique.
As a hand appears on your tiny screen
To wave a fond farewell before fading into
I curse your condescension once more
Before attempting to write chapter four again.
Go to hell, Mac computer man.
You’re not even cute like the PC dog.
I might have some writer's block angst. Hard to say...