To Google Government

No, I don't want you to remember my password, thank you.

Nor do I wish you to rifle through my electric epistles

but I know that you do--at least when my babbling brain

thoughtlessly throws together certain strange constellations of words

with insidious connotations.

Words like: [section censored by compassionate comrades]

No, I don't want to stay signed in or logged in, thank you.

Nor do I wish to combine all accounts, but I'm sure you'd like that.

You try to hem me in, stuff all of me into a single suitcase.

I feel you sitting on me, wadding me up, cutting the threads of me

in your zipper's teeth.

There's no blood; I'm 100% white cotton.

No, I won't report suspicious correspondence, though I know that's frowned on.

Better ten than one, and you've a heinous track-record, friend.

I'll leave the recorder at home tonight and keep the forest spirits company,

the ones who need and deserve my homage. 

You deserve my hatred.

No, I don't want to catch the souls of friends in an address book, thanks.

                       (They do it willingly.)

Once their hearts were too large for your containers,

but your memory has increased exponentially

and ours has vanished, clicked away and clicking,

synchronized to the burgeoning of your dominion. 

It's the last inch; it's all I've got--

I won't let you hold me in the palm pilot of your hand!

My charge is almost out and your recent recall has made a criminal of me.

This battery is obsolete and 

I'm unable or unwilling to plug into your putrid power grid.

My parts are ancient now, must look like a primitive explosive.

Everywhere I go, the din of this dying cell unnerves you,

unnerves others, and begs askance of the proper authorities.

You'll be coming for me, yes, you'll be gunning for me
as I dance down Pinochet streets, the Penzoil pavement marked in blood.

You'll be out for me, literal or metaphorically.

Throw me in your black box or the bottom drawer or

corner carcel and leave me die.

It's the waiting that's the hardest part.