I'm so afraid of this kind of commitment that I don't even want to title these posts as napowrimo.

It's much too late, and I'm much too tired, and I fear that will be most evident here. 

We are more than one-third through NaPoWriMo. If you feel like you’ve started to make things up (two parts desperation, one part coffee grinds), then Carolee Sherwood’s prompt for Day 12 will play into your hand.  Make up a secret code. Begin by writing a few nonsense sentences, like “The raindrops tap out a cry for help” or “The dandelions are saying all at once, ‘You are overwhelmed.’” The formula is easy: come up with a message and assign it to something unlikely. Remember, of course, that inanimate objects can speak and that signs and symbols may be nonverbal.  Once you have a few sentences, select the one that is most intriguing to you and use it to start a poem.

Well, I went with the code idea.  Can't get much more code than text-speak.
 

Top Secret: And Some of It’s True

The child in the restaurant
drawing on the kids’ menu
drew, not a house or a horse, or mommy or dog,
but an iPod,
yes,
complete with apps.

And she held it up
for her mommy to see;
proud mommy of a child
of the twenty-first century.

And the drawing of iPod said,
“OMG, lady, WTH must you stare?”

“IDK,” I spat back, “WTF do you care?
I straddle the centuries;
I’m a teacher, you know;
I can play your code game
and you know it fo sho.”

“LMAO,” iPoddy-mouth said,
“FWIW, though, to me you’re
over the hill, like, half dead.”

“OFFS,” I retorted,
with a roll of my I,
“GTG, bcuz IMHO,
ur the NME now,
so don’t even try.”

“^URS, lady. CU in BFE.”

“I’ll BRT. (What a huge SOB.)”