Why it means something

When DOS confused me,
there was a screen with friendlier ways,
when in school I could paint with not a brush
but the tail end of a mouse
when cities grew in tiles,
and school days turned in to hours of imagination in flight
when in college i burned cd’s not in fire
but in by the speed and grace of laser lights
when in studios i sat kerning letters with small clicks
and typography became the purpose of all nighters
when the canvas of my work grew from beige monitors
to glass marvels,
when every pixel began to matter
and effects and filters and infinite layers added to my plight
when the desk seemed so static
that i had to find a way to carry my glass canvas with me at all times
when the emails poured from these glowing screens
into jacket, jean and skirt pockets,
and the world was in my palm
when I could hear an aria one night
and carry it with me from that day on,
when my father and mother stare through a small lens
and see beyond the four thousand miles that keep us apart

thats when i realize the effect is profound, its deep,
the detail is meticulous and the reasoning simple
thats when the purpose of it all seems obvious,
and yet the path to get there filled with attempts and failures
and versions that never quite measured up

ahh its just a bunch of circuits and wires…..they say
and yet it seems so much more than that

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