O, mouse.


I the mouse feel the ground change of life and give it away only. I am the first prostitute messenger, the plastic love child of the world's oldest professions. I relate human's Hand-and-Eye candy. I sit coy and sit poised. I am kicked often as my tail tangles.

Is the mouse the prosthetic of the computer or the human hand? Probably the hand, because the computer could run on its own without the mouse.  We are the ones who need it. Detatch the mouse and the computer is inacessible to us. The mouse confers our (need for) prosthesis upon the computer.