My good morning greeting is your body.
We are not equals.
You step on me,
but I hold the power in this relationship.
I pause,
pondering, calculating, measuring
you pray as my plastic parts groan under your weight.
My only means of communication:
three red square digits.
I’m sorry
but I don’t make these up.
Just the messenger,
not your enemy, though you see me as such.
Squished between your feet and the floor
I feel it too.
You are done staring down, wishing me to change.
Good.
I can’t
and you hate me for it.
Finally,
you step off
the numbers disappear, but
I’ll be waiting until tomorrow morning.
je suis Audrey 