They don’t make USB cords 

Long enough these days;

Poor Macbook was cross-tied 

Between the printer and the power outlet

Somehow he leapt up into the air

And landed on his head.

I rushed to pick him up,

Only to find him seizing,

His screen flickering 

In scintillating colors.

I brought him to the Genius Bar

And now he shall stay in hospital

Until he is well again.

I’ll miss him, the poor thing.

Get well soon, Mac!