The Doohickey

The webhost that I use

is claiming a widget will not

load. Nothing is where it should be

because of this power-tripping

gizmo.

There’s not a word

that piques my anger

more than widget. 

It’s the Brian

Jones of apps, doing nothing

but bang its palm

with a tambourine,

taking credit for others’

success. You rarely

note its absence

until it screams

that I’m not there!!!—

throwing its rusted

wrench

into your efforts,

saying if it 

can’t kick the ball—

then no one else can

either.

It’s never been the hero,

saving a bus of schoolkids

in a fire. Fixing a river’s

bridge

before collapse, sending

every wheelchair

to the fetid murk

below.

Show me a single

instance when the widget

has been summoned from

a toolbox, like a phantom

in a séance, able to

shake the table,

tell us what it wants.

Batman carried everything 

in his belt except a widget.

Opting for a phonebook

in its stead.

After a number

of cussing hours

it finally hits me:

it’s the chartreuse

clock

I added

failing to show—

ticking vainly

in some corner of my

site. No one clicks my URL

to synchronize their Gucci.

Yet this fucker

will do its darndest

to keep you from seeing

my latest sketch, buy

my newest title,

cringing

at the poem you'll swear

is worse than even this.

Andreas Gripp

June 21, 2025

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