Sunday, February 24, 2013

O iPhone! My Captain!

O iPhone4! My iPhone4! our fearful trip is done;
The hardware has weather'd every call, the prize we sought is won;
The Applestore is near, the ringtone I hear, the douchebags all in-lining,
While follow eyes the drop in the tub, the iPhone sparks and swimming:

But O Phone! MP3s! Twitter!
O the bleeding drops of bubble bath ,
Where on the tub my smartphone lies,
Fallen soapy and dead.

O iPhone! my iPhone! rise up and hear the Darth Vader text tone;
Rise up—for you the ads are dope—for you the alerts trill;
For you apps and GPS—for you the stores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

O iPhone! dear iPhone!
This hand beneath your case;
It is some dream that in the tub,
You've fallen soapy and dead.

My iPhone does not answer, her liquid crystal display black & still;
My iPhone does not feed me notifications, she has no pulse nor will;
The phone is anchor'd safe and sound (in a bag of rice), its voyage closed and done;
From fearful splashing, the software crashing, comes in with object won;
Exult, O Mac lovers, and ring, O other people's phones!

But I, with mournful tread,
Lay in the bath where my iPhone lies,
Fallen soapy and dead.


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