This little box keeps me so entertained
It’s stuck to my hand - it’s my work, my
Solace - sleeps by my head - in trance
It even has me an - I - how diabolical
And glorious - it is more real than friends
Who reach out thru the little rose gold
Box - wrapped in careful leather that holds
My life - the necessary plastic we are told
Makes us: license, a debit and credit card
To legitimatize our existence - and makes
Buying coffee ok - my daughter is younger
She carries no plastic - just a pale blue box
In her back pocket