A poem must bee ritten on behaf
uv food-laden laptop keybords,
uv the littul bits that will never be remooved
from beside the letter K, Qtips that cleen
the alfabet nun too often, the embairrussment
of handing your compyuter to yore mother-in-law
to uze for a moment, witch becums the day
she wunders whut yore howse looks like
at too in the afternoon most days.
Weel call it, Finger Prints That
Yused To Smudge Novel Paiges.
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