Real Phone to Keep

My poems are free
I freestyle cool-etically
I'm ready frantically- the furniture!
(Gasp] The ghost crowded for strength.
They look good enough to me my masseuse, I panic,
my phone's stories are juicy,
but they are mine, all mine.
I sleep, walk, charge, and upload to it, with me
The world is exposed through the zinging eye of visits,
The upload percent flickers,
and I know my sister is alright.
Eighty-one percent to eighty-eight
and now ninety-one,
I went insane with excitement,
Ninety-nine and the upload!
"The Sea Star" is mine.
I wanted to stack my stomach like pancakes or tiny library comic books.
There's a Clippers game last Sunday,
I'm in the past and home in the present.

By: Brandy Ruiz