I grew up in the farmland shadows of Silicon Valley.
No cell phone, no computer, only friends had those things.
I graduated college without a computer.
I used pens and notebooks to write notes during lectures.
The world spun too fast on its axis for me to catch up while I worked on my inner life.
This poem is dedicated to people like me who feel left out.
All I have our words and thumbs,
And they fall short.
The days of newsprint on my fingers have vanished.
Now, papers are good for lining bird cages and making papier mache.
It is a dusty game where I don’t know my place anymore.
Memories are all I have,
And they fall short like time and place and setting.