By Natalie Parker:
Ode to technology,
to my beautiful pair
of Apple AirPods that unfairly died
during a high-spin cycle; badly did they fare.
Oh, I might well have lost my nose or an eye;
I’ve basically lost my ears, since now they are bare.
How, oh how, will I listen to my Taylor Swift?
My Olivia Rodrigo, my Billie Eilish-t?
How will I listen to podcasts galore,
that I’ve thought about but never listened to before?
How will people know to move out of my way
when I step onto the subway every single day?
I remember the day I got my AirPods;
they were handed to me by two powerful gods.
By gods, I mean parents, and those parents were mine.
They’re powerful because they own lots of dimes.
By dimes, I mean money—I mean that they’re wealthy.
And with my AirPods in, that fact wasn’t stealthy.
Alas, now my dear expensive earbuds have succumbed
to the awesome power of my washing machine.
I guess it’s kinda my fault; I did something dumb.
I left them in the pocket of my Abercrombie jeans.
I guess it really it doesn’t matter, however;
my parents can buy me a new pair whenever.
So now I don’t need to finish this poem,
because my parents are rich, and I won’t even owe ‘em.