[ pixels ]
The cursor taps its thin impatient finger against snow.

[ broadband ]
A photographer in Spain invites me to compose captions for a documentary about the war, pressing the SEND key like a doorbell.

[ proof ]
A webpage printed on paper. Hyperlinks underlined blue. The proofer sharpens her pencil, reaches for the department dictionary.

[ mouse ]
The error message asks Are you sure you want to proceed? Every day I enter Yes without second thought. A red line questions if I’ve spelled my name correctly.

[ cube ]
First the batteries in my desktop meditation fountain drain dead. Then the water trickles dry. The Buddha figurine kneels in an empty basin.

[ happy birthday ]
My father posts another anonymous comment.

[ inbox ]
A hunter-orange rebar mast rises behind my rural mailstop. In winter, snowed over, plowed in, the black breadbox door freezes on its rusting hinge.

[ coaxial ]
The Indian Wetland Tiger swims up to 2 miles a day. A diver captures how outstretched paws shape quite efficient paddles. The narrator explains how big cats swim the same way they walk, walk the way they swim, chins skimming water.

[ privacy laws ]
I mistakenly Reply All to the message questioning your absence.

[ charter ]
A single wire connects us to the world. Stretching for miles to the horizon, a clear-cut swath of forest towering with crosses, thin black lines slack between.