Poem: The Answer Is What I Cannot Do

The Answer Is What I Cannot Do

He knows already
the inherent difficulties
I have with coordination,
spatial awareness,
fine motor skills,
the indelicacy of my motion:
he knows all this,

but when I speak
of my annoyance
at how often things break,
how the electronics I buy
do not last well,
refuse to continue charging
in protest to the inept jabbing
that is my only method
of coupling the chord
with its intended port,

his answer is
to be more careful,
to control my motions
in the way others do
who are not encumbered
by a brain like mine.

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