my new friend sits squat and black

near my bed, eyeing the room
flashing quietly, apart from
that, no movement, for he is
foot-firm, waiting to be used,
sure of purpose, smoothly-modern,
he'll be there when I
wake up, the first thing to
speak to me in my day, the
first thing to wrest me from sleep

and my old one sits near me here
bit broken, not whole,
fot fully functional but
comforting in his dusty edgy way
but I can see through his
veneer, his brownness, and still
he tells me what he can
tells me when I have time to
kill, when I have none,
tells me when my day is done.

that other one, and I
will get used to one another
given time
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