Dora sits down in Albuquerque.
A recording device makes record of her breathing.
This goes on all day.
There are interruptions as one would expect.
Dora gets up for the restroom and takes a break for lunch.
When the monsoon comes, the rain is captured by the recording.
So much so, Albuquerque feels not a single drop.
Near the end of the recording
a disembodied voice asks an unintelligible question.
Dora stands up in Albuquerque.
The recording device shuts itself off,
per its firmware digital programing default settings.
It remains off until examined.
A board of university professors declare
the recording is an artistic expression of emptiness.
Andy Warhol acolytes compare it to Andy’s Edie Sedgwick movies,
confident this recording is derivative.
Some professors state the disembodied voice represents God,
others say Morgan Freeman, still others reference George Burns.
One opts for a magpie who mimics God to near perfection.
The recording holds the captured rain for ransom,
then secretly, at night, releases the monsoon at twenty-four FPS
into Elephant Butte Reservoir.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
FPS means “frames per second” which is the standard recording speed for film and digital devices.
Elephant Butte Reservoir is about a 2 hour drive south of Albuquerque.
Opening Day (of Baseball) was yesterday. (This has nothing to do with the poem above.) I spent several of my hours in front of the television with baseball games playing out in front of me. I miss playing the game, but life has applied some injuries to my body that make playing baseball a foolish thing to do. I will go to a few Albuquerque Isotopes (Triple-A baseball) this year—go Topes!!!!