by Henry Chase Richards
Today I sold something that used to be called an iPhone.
But I call it a Hen-Wizard.
I reverse-engineered it in my shack from foraged junk.
The person I sold it to asked what it was for.
They were unimpressed by the ability to take
what was once called a photograph.
But they liked the ‘Maps’ function,
even though ‘Sydney’ meant nothing to them;
the pattern it made was pretty and sparked their curiosity.
I traded the Hen-Wizard for a handful of their dried beans; Adzuki.
They were reluctant to give me a full fist.
But I persuaded them to part with some that were off-coloured.
Wait until they figure out how janky the Hen-Wizard is
when they accept suggested updates!
No taksies backsies.
As the smog-shrouded sun sets
on the poisoned landscape of former, so-called Sydney,
I stir my pot of simmering Adzuki beans
with a smile.
