Palm Pilot

 Who is that rushing through the airport

Through the checkpoints, finding baggage?

Who braves the crowds and the lockstep

Along the concourse and at the gate?

That once was me, my daily fare,

My pace, my mood, my need for speed.

I think I lived with half a brain,

My horizon defined as here to there.

I was meeting a need, I thought of me,

As I rushed on to others’ bidding.

Food and ideas I grabbed in passing,

Quantity first, quality could wait.

And I did it all, that I can say,

With some success to prove my presence.

But when it was done, I was strangely glad.

I needed the rush more than it needed me.

Stride on old self and keep me safe

You know this place and what to do in it.

I’ll lag and lumber and miss the cues

Counting on you to get me through it.

- Charles B. Neff