Some days as I stare at the rows and columns and formulas and fonts and icons and stupid bullets with actions and visions and other god damn fucking bullshit putting in my time (of the little time I have remaining on this rock) in my black chair with stylish monitors (meant to be impressive when seen from behind by visiting dignitaries brought into our farm of slaving salarymen arranged in precisely sloppy clusters of desks) all in service of running home to my two-point-five urchins in my two-point-five bedroom palace to talk about our upcoming two-point-five star vacation with my two-point-five star partner, I pause, look up and yearn for

A large open plain, river meandering it’s way through brushes and horsetail, douglas fir lined walls on either side, and hundreds, no thousands, of mule deer idly eating while ring-necked ducks and trumpeter swans poke lazily between their hoof prints, and barn swallows sing overhead.

And I imagine one of those deers pausing, looking up, and yearning: “Mother fucking nature! This shit day-in, day-out! I would kill for a fucking computer!”