Communication’s tenuous at best
An electrical storm knocks out the internet.
Portable phone beeps its last hurrah, then dies.
I can’t find a stamp in this mess of a bedroom,
and besides nobody makes a pen that lasts any more,
the ink’s gone and
Bleeds on my finger, and darkness is my friend.
I am a broken telephone, but I’ll mend.
Letters To My Editor 
No google search will find him
His facebook page is empty
A tv set with rabbit ears will only bring in Global
And even that is iffy
No cell phone will he ever have
He types two words a minute
Yet he is one you’d want to hear
And on YouTube we got him in it.