"Rolodex"
Mossy dust covers
the black plastic case.
Time buries some things
faster than others
A dying solar system,
cards rotating round
the central axis
of my Rolodex.
Now tilted in the trash
—born before recycling.
Where are my colleagues
now, floating somewhere
in the digital vapor?
Held in electric cirrus or altostratus,
new guardians of data.
Or is it cumulonimbus,
with gigabyte drops,
waiting to be clicked.
Engulfed by the cloud.
—Gary D. Grossman
