i put a steaming hot bag of edamame
on the apex
of my plastic laptop
the malleable kind,
the kind you buy at half price
the heat has culled it
and now it has its own geography
a sloping mesa, with
a horn on its back
in my minds eye
i hike up the mound
while i munch on the culprit
the green, envious beads
who shake at the thought
that the laptop still lives
with renewed purpose
instead of lowly rapture
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