My monitor is frozen in late for something sun that cuts

through icy patterns; another day is begun recalling all my

losses while trying to ignore the theme that keeps repeating

from Call of Duty 4. I tap tap off the volume, and stare out

at the road where cars and snowplows scroll by—a broken line

of code from some embedded program that executes our town: the

river and the co-op, this house that’s falling down. So tape

over my window with dark green garbage bags. Enclose my name

in brackets—make HTML tags to start and end, forever, above

the wheezy breath of cooling fans and hard drives, beyond the

screens of death.