[continued from the first fragment]
Together, two poets—one Geek, one Beat—walked down the street;
Each had a backpack that carried their belongings complete.
My traveling companion curiously eyed my green pack.
"Geek poet, what is it that you carry, there on your back?"
We stopped for a bit on a bus-stop bench. I, Geek poet,
Took a strange case out of my sack. The Beat didn't know it.
"What's in that silvery shell you have sitting on your lap?"
"It's called a MacBook," I said to him, opening its flap.
"It connects me to my Blogosphere and poets like me.
Let me show you my land!" I said, with unusual glee.
"What is this? My AirPort cannot find Wi-Fi in this spot."
The Beat poet, puzzled, scratched his head; he didn't know squat
Of what I was doing and those, to him, alien words.
As far as he knew this gray cage was strictly for the birds.
Then I, disconnected, disconcerted, set it aside.
My interest, after all, was to let him be my guide.
There were more things in my pack I could show if I wanted.
Maybe later, I thought, and I proceeded undaunted.
"Perhaps you could show me what items you have in your store."
The Beat poet seemed eager to show the cool things he bore.
[this ends the second fragment*]
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* Still scouring blog backups on Blogosphere for more fragments, I will post them as they become available. -pt
loving it :)
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