Where is my phone: a poem

Okay, but seriously

I know I had it this morning

And now it is gone

I retraced my steps

I sat in that chair, but I moved, right?

It is not on the bookshelf

It is not in the bathroom

It is not in the kitchen, not even on top of the microw-

hold on

Dammit.

Last time it was on top of the microwave

This time

it is not

The ringer's on silent,

Because I was rehearsing last night

and I wanted to be “respectful”

But I did not turn the ringer back on

because I was “absent minded”

And now the baby is playing with my purse

She's wrapping the strap over her shoulder

and strutting confidently around the living room

She has places to go, this baby

She has many important errands to run

and she looks so freaking cute

I want to take a picture so badly

so I can show her how precocious she was

when she actually has places to go

and many important errands to run

I want to keep this moment

trapped, held, pressed between glass and silicon

until data loses meaning and we all drift into the ether

Now she's dancing

She's turned on that awful elephant thing

and she's stomping and smiling

with my purse wrapped around her

Gum wrappers and old receipts spilling out

as she dances and giggles

She has many places to go

many important errands to run

like this

But I do not have my phone

and the real camera is gathering dust on the bookshelf

by the time I get it, she will no longer be dancing

So I'll stay here

and take her picture with words

with the ache of knowing

that even if I had my phone

and could capture this instant

it'd be gone

an instant later

I do need my phone though

Soon, I'm sure, the baby will find it

and put it in her mouth