Carsten Cheung

Mobile Phone Magic

The weather app was actually right
today when it predicted rain at 11
and drops started falling at 10:55.
I took a walk outside
your room and basked
in the dependability.
In the miracle of man’s
once in a while win,
where we presume
we are able to
tell the skies when and where
they may cry.

And they do.

I clutch close to my chest
this notion
that science and technology
has mastery over Mother Nature,
as I look down on
the ever increasing percentages
rising before my eyes,
syncing perfectly
with the growing
intensity of the deluge
from above.
As if my swiping fingers
on a screen
could actually be a baton
for the clouds.

I soak up the scent
of water on pavement,
that familiar smell of car oil
pooling with gravel, unearthing
tar and soil, hoping for
hints of floral notes
to sweeten up the
grime and grit,
before heading back to you,
to your uncertain rise and fall
of chest under sheet.

To the rhythmic beat
of jagged lines that
at any moment may
lie flat and beat turn
to steady single tone.
I listen to the experts
in your room
tell me
we’ll see
and
hope for the best,
resentful of their
uncertainty.
Wishing, praying
for some of that magic
from outside,
and from the phone,
to make its way
in here.

.

ToC