Telephone Kiosks in Brasov, WikiCommons
Only children had a sister named the internet.
We were conceived in the same apartment complex,
delivered in the same hospital.
Our first words were, “You’ve got mail.”
We remember her,
we reams of dot matrix paper
and landline telephones
and magazines about solar cars.
We had Pokémon cards,
and we weren’t allowed to play Magic
or Dungeons and Dragons,
but we did it anyway.
Listening to a Weird Al mixtape,
burned on a CD
downloaded from Napster
in between Dexters on Cartoon Network.
Hooked on phonics
in love with electronics:
Gameboy printer, Minesweeper,
Dad’s belt holder for a beeper,
little button on the intercom speaker.
Gliding through Windows on skis,
Summer chihuahuas freeze, no yetis
Mouthful of veggie spaghetti
When “veggie” just meant there were vegetables in it.
Board games uncovered like ancient relics
A VHS of Thriller with werewolf prosthetics
Roller blading the unfinished basement
Opening cases of dried-up art supplies