analogue
kevin carlisle

Notebooks

I had this notebook

It was spiral bound and clean

I would write there all the time

Now it’s just a memory

It cost three dollars

And sixty three cents

But to me it was priceless

And it held me, more or less

That old place was leaky

Kept my hands inside my gloves

I pulled my jacket tighter

And I’d write about my old loves

The words I used were simple

Maybe not quite thought through

But they came when I needed them

And they sought to foretell you

But it always seemed to fall apart

When the writing was at its best

Pages slipping through the cracks

Who knows where they came to rest?

I’d lost everything I’d found

Now it’s a laptop

Sitting, glowing in the dark

With its cold keys of plastic

Or shocks from an electric arc

When did that paper

Become not good enough?

It must have been the 90’s

When it seemed that times weren’t so tough

Now it always seems to lock or freeze

When the writing’s at its best

Emails slipping through the cracks

Who knows where they’ll come to rest?

I’ve lost everything I’ve saved