Fortified

The router’s blinking red and slow,

the signal’s gone into the air.

I have nowhere at all to go

but looking at a cartoon bear.

I hunt for seven small mistakes,

a missing hat, a shorter tail.

The milk is warm, the corn is flakes,

the morning’s just a quiet jail.

The date is stamped in purple ink,

a promise that the end is near.

I stare until I cannot blink,

and wonder why I’m sitting here.