The screen
has been waiting
for you
to bring it
to life after
sleeping.
A single touch
arouses. When
finger-tips tap,
letters appear,
become
words, sentences.
You sit back
to review.
Is this what you
intended to say?
The nerd who,
till now,
has served you well
cannot tell,
but does have
a memory of
what you wrote
and deleted,
as well as of
stealthy visits
to shady sites.
Should your
deadpan
amanuensis,
on call at all
hours,
be called on
to testify,
why should the slave
not squeal?
