by Gary Hardaway

The screens go blank,
the lights go dark,
the hum and click
of the refrigerator stop.
The house disquiets us with quiet.
Cooling artificial breezes of the fans
dissipate and still.

7:23. The grid abandons us.

By 7:57, Timex time,
the cravings hit
for season finales,
fresh brewed after dinner coffee,
frozen margaritas,
checking mail
and deleting special offers
from Toyota and American Express.

Electrons leave no tracks.

8:30 and our withdrawal pains begin
in candle glow
and late May sweat,
What fresh hell is this?

With chirp and clunk
and green light flashes  
in the flickering dim,
the savior surge returns.

9:17. The grid embraces us again.