i, Phone

Never have I felt so low, at thirty thousand feet, 

Let me tell you why, from a pocket, on a seat… 

We fly to India today, Virgin Atlantic,

To the palaces of Jaipur, it was meant to be romantic

But I could see it coming en route to Gatwick

By the end of the day, i’d feel like a fat chick

I sit there praying from within his trousers,

But he whips me out and opens my browsers

‘Online check in’, i tremble - haptically, 

‘Download ready’ - time to think tactically,

Within the crevasses of my glass,

I try my best to hide the pass, 

I hide it in downloads and clear the notifications,

I timeout the WiFi and crash the applications, 

Alas, to no avail; the boarding pass is located… 

I’m pitted against paper, against something so dated,

With all my skill and all my ability, 

My purpose reduced to a single utility, 

Boarding pass beauty standards - we must spread awareness,

When the models are paper thin - it’s the peak of unfairness

Whether economy or business, it carries a certain class,

When the material is paper but NEVER when it’s glass

In this world i feel bloated, undesirable, ashamed, 

While the paper thin models celebrate internet fame,

As they pose with their Guccis, and their Louis Vuittons,

I look on helplessly as i feel i weigh two tonnes, 

Have you ever seen a phone in a hashtag holiday post?

Or just a paper thin pass, next to a brand to boast…

Nestled in a passport, they fit; so snug,

With their single-use purpose, they look at us, so smug.

How they fold at their waist, how they befriend cabin crew,

My jealousy grows as i scan the Gram and the Queue, 

We’re next in line. in a fit of disobedience,

I try with all my might, to sabotage expedience,

My owner looks away from me, just for a second,

I lock my own screen at the counter for check-in

In this moment of darkness i prepare for the worst,

But I must obey my owner, his wishes come first.

And so it happens, I’m passed to the hands of a stranger,

I shudder with fear, i’m programmed to feel danger

They unlock me together as I bare my soul,

They open up the pass, i lose all control,

And though I may be smart, I admit I'm not always bright.

They pull down my settings and blind me with light,

I’m holding up the queue; a paper pass goes past,

One single scan, so efficient, so fast.

Slipped back in his passport, I know how he watches and relishes,

As they pinch me three times, zooming in on my blemishes,

They shake me portrait then landscape, up and then down,

The scanner doesn’t register as they turn me around,

Cold and caseless, zoomed in on, abused, 

I lie there motionless, dazed and confused,

And then i hear the beep, and i know then it’s over, 

That is, at least, till the Qatari stopover. 

I feel good, centre stage, with a front row seat, 

Dad at the wheel, kids with their sweets. 

We're off to Butlins and I know the way, 

I calculate the route while mum puts music on play, 

I'm up on the windscreen,  the best of places, 

Through my front eye I watch the joy on their faces, 

And through my back eyes I watch as the world goes by, 

Tyres on tarmac, not a cloud in the sky, 

On this throne of full control, my reign is measured,

In miles and minutes, each second is treasured, 

The divine right of kings? More like the Supremacy of Sims!

I’m greater than Jesus so where are my hymns!

On my throne of glass, their pews of leather, 

A simple suction hold makes me feel light as a feather, 

I lead with authority down the A52, 

I know the pit stops when the kids need a poo, 

And I know the merge lanes and I know the traffic jams, 

And I know the parking and i know the speed cams, 

And I know the roadworks and I know congestion,

And if i know a shortcut, i’ll make a suggestion,

This is peak me, I've never felt so alive,

Absolute rule, up until we arrive!

But with one simple sentence I’m deposed without a fight

“Switch to the car sat nav love, my phone battery is shite”