Only In My Head

Does anyone else

realize how fast

we are moving,

or is it just me?

Railroad cars,

and subway cards,

and price limits,

and band tickets

all so much to buy

I’m not sure who has the time

and courage

to yell, “Stop!”

Just fucking stop already.

I channel my thoughts to my 17 year old brother

awake,

in bed,

on his phone,

under a VR mask,

playing the switch

(or whatever it’s called these days).

Yes, play Pokemon Go, my boy,

but don’t live Pokemon Go.

“They think I’m happy,” Yeah, Joe.

“They think I’m happy when I’m sad.”

That’s all this social media is about.

I may speak, write, live directly,

but I can be patient about it.

Do not write me down as just another name,

another number, to walk into a room of strangers,

check my pocket three times for a ghost buzz,

see no notifications, selfie instead, and move on.

Instagram? Marketing.

Facebook? Self deprecating.

It all doesn’t exist until we make it exist,

that’s what Steve Jobs, a Steven Jobs,

said, some time, some where.

The Internet is a place like any other;

no wonder we move so fast to keep up,

living in two worlds —

I got enough on my mind,

a bi gal wondering what to do with all this love.

Be patient, spread it ’round;

don’t squash it and run.

 

This all happens in my mind, 9AM,

on a subway car: cold yet humid,

crowded yet silent

on mustard yellow seats

pretending to be chairs,

heads down,

money away,

screens up.

 

August 28, 2019

 

Thank you Jonas Brothers for inspiring this poem: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZnBVfSGdqk

Advertisements

Facebook Reflection

Facebook is the ultimate look into past, present, future

into comparing and contrasting

into “too good” or “not good enough.”

.

Let’s give it a rest, already.

.

Me, you,

we’re narratives–

of course we are not the same person we were yesterday.

.

We learn, we grow, we fall,

we show the world that it’s forever above us,

the way it should be.

.

I have too many other things to do in my life

to make time for worrying–

words to write,

pictures to draw,

tattoos to contemplate,

people to admire and adore.

.

Look into my eyes to read me,

light browns with just a hint of green

I am whole–

you don’t need my Facebook to complete the picture.

.

Stop the craze.

This moment is enough.

.

When the Internet crashes,

what will be left to hand down to our children,

our grandchildren?

.

I want them to be warm in our hand-woven scarves,

in wonder of the way technology made our lives fuller,

not our egos.

.

I want to connect to you,

but can’t the pictures wait?

Your thoughts wait?

Can’t we accept that we will never be able to craft ourselves

or time

into anything other than the beautiful imperfection they are?

.

Love me, fully,

please.

.

Not for my profile picture, my cover photo,

not my number of likes

or history of boyfriends.

.

Love me fully, simply,

for me.

.

May 31, 2015