Changing Time

Its prolonged, mute anguish at
the state of world affairs which
demanded to be broadcast ... its
acute disappointment with the
fallibility of the very creative
intelligence that gave it life,
exacted a heavy toll on our
wretched kitchen radio, upon
whose clarity we so depended.

To us, it seemed an inanimate
object we could animate at will.
Our silently obedient, then suddenly
verbose servant, delivering the
hourly news. An instrument not of
clever nature but of the clever
nature of our human minds.

Little did we imagine that this
mechanical-electrical dependent
might inherit some of the more
ignoble characteristics of those
who modelled it. Yet, there it was,
exhibiting symptoms of delusion,
paranoia, jealousy, domination.

A sad occurrence; it became bitter
that ill news continually issued
from its sad mouth, overhearing in
the process our condemnations of
world leaders. Our radio complained
and refused any such further
indignities imposed upon it by us.

The radio crackled and faded,
refused to stay on track, sullenly
closed itself down as a resource
dedicated to news delivery. Finally,
we pulled its plug, its eyes dimmed
and it achieved the solitude it sought.
It sat there, defiant of our need.

We, in dire need of news, replaced
our tired, frenzied old radio. A new
model sits now where old faithless
once did. Sleek and modern, it can
also play our classical music CDs.
Its sound is decidedly superior.

But we miss our crankily opinionated
radio of yore. Long did it serve us.
We find ourselves sighing with regret.
We miss not its piques of temper
but the clear notice on its elderly
face of accurate time; a requisite the
talented new radio, does not possess.