to think i hated phones

it was a magic little box majestic in it's black and silver casing yet simple. 

simply underestimated in power. power which carries you in my pocket. 

a pocket which earnestly, selflessly waits to surrender the box to my ear. 

my ear then bathed in the sweet caress of your 

voice. 

the voice which reaches into my soul and brings us 

together. 

the together that i cherish when you're not 

home. 

home that i feel when we are here.

Children's Work

The story is told of a first memory. A Nintendo paddle is placed in the young girls hand buttons are pushed in an earnest attempt to save the princess yet within seconds Mario lays dead on the sceen. "I killed the man!" The comforting arm of her brother reaches out and lifts her eyes to the screen her heart soars to learn that there is always a second chance.
I sit (in my earliest memory) in a clunker of a truck happily bouncing down a crumbling, rural, new york road. then with a carelessy deliberate move i heaved my bouncy ball out the window. as the truck continued to lumber down the street I watched the ball bounce into the irretreivable past. still unaccountable for my actions i learned that some things are gone forever.
and now a word from Dessa.